Firefly Ficlets
by trisanamcgraw
Summary: 100-1000 word ficlets written for the ff_friday challenge at http://www.livejournal.com/community/ff_friday. Each chapter has the ficlet's title, date of the challenge, and the subject.
1. Son of a Gun, April 11, childhood

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Author's Note: Inspired by TaraLJC's genius LiveJournal ff_friday (that's the name you enter in on the site) challenge, this ficlet (clocking in at 553 words, not including author's note) addresses the subject of childhood. I personally think the idea's a bit clichéd, but I haven't seen it written yet, so here goes. Set sometime in the near future, maybe a few months after "Objects in Space."

Son of a Gun

By Trisana McGraw

For once, trouble came _before_ the crew of _Serenity_, as they found when they landed on Hestia. Unfortunately, that didn't make things go any less smooth. Some mercenaries, who had landed a week before them, were terrorizing the capital town, and the distressed mayor would pay anybody, regardless of their own occupation similar to that of the ruffians tearing up his town, a healthy sum to get the mercenaries out of there.

The skirmish was a dirty one, not just because of the style of fighting. Somehow, as they moved out of the saloon, it shifted from a bar brawl into a full-on wrestling match in the mud. No one had escaped clean, but at least in the end Mal was the one standing over his opponent, who lay face-down in the muck, his gun in Mal's hand. Zoe had also successfully disarmed her man; and Mal could guess that Jayne was finishing up his business, as the big man pummeled his smaller attacker until the man dropped to the ground, out cold.

Already a crowd of spectators had assembled and was watching the fight, wide-eyed, not taking a step toward the fray. When all of the offenders lay unconscious in the mud, a dirty-faced woman clutching a small bundle to her cautiously took a step forward, her eyes darting from the fallen men to Mal and his filthy crew.

"Th – thank you so much," the words tumbled out of her, as she pressed the bundle – which turned out to be a little baby – closer to her chest. "Your crew – they're _amazing_."

Mal couldn't help but grin. "Thanks –" he started, but the woman edged past him without listening and continued speaking to someone else.

"I just landed here, and I was so afraid that they would hurt me. But I should have known things would be fine with _you_ here." With a start, Mal saw that she was directing her words towards Jayne, who took no notice of the woman and instead kicked the unconscious man onto his back and started searching his clothes.

The woman made what sounded like a sigh of admiration. "Jayne, you and your crew saved the day, once again."

"I what?" For the first time, Jayne looked up, and he immediately stopped looting the fallen man. The woman before him looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place her.

The woman was rocking her baby and cooing softly to it. "See, your daddy's a hero. He's the Hero of Canton."

"Your – what?" Jayne shouted. Suddenly he remembered where he had seen the woman: in that gorram town where everyone worshipped him. She'd been especially willing to please the Hero of Canton that night – and now she was holding a baby?! "_Tamade_," he hissed, furiously smacking the unconscious man for emphasis as he stumbled to his feet.

The smile dropped from the woman's face. "No language around the baby," she ordered sternly. Walking back to the motionless crowd, she retrieved a duffel bag and dropped it at Jayne's feet. "So, where's your ship?" she asked.

"My – wha –" he stammered, his brain having lost all ability to function. As Zoe and Mal brushed past him, chuckling to themselves, he heard the captain mutter, "I pity the child."

"Shut up," Jayne growled, at a loss to say much more. Right now he would have gladly traded places with the man in the mud.


	2. Not Half Bad, April 17, first kiss

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Author's Note: An entry for the April 17-24 ff_friday challenge. Subject: first kiss. Length: 294 words.

Not Half Bad

By Trisana McGraw

He reaches his peak with a groan, emptying himself into her as he feels their sweaty bodies arch and rub together. It's been too damn long since he was with a woman, but this night is more than making up for lost time. The smell of sex, combined with the slight breeze coming in through a window, lingers over their bodies, and this sensation is the first simple, uncomplicated thing Jayne's experienced since they came to Canton.

His own little worshipper grins up at him, her face glowing through the layer of dirt on her skin. Her arms are still wrapped tightly around his neck and she doesn't seem to be uncurling her legs from his waist anytime soon, but he doesn't mind. It's almost peaceful, just lying there spent, listening to gasping breaths and thundering heartbeats.

Suddenly, she begins to giggle. He's confused at first, but he starts laughing too; it's something about the body heat, the heady scents, the feel of soft skin under him, not to mention that they're both drunk on Mudders' milk. It's nice, a good ending to a good day.

Then she does something that surprises him (and that's hard to do, considering the day he's had): She pulls his head down and kisses him. It's not quick and harsh, like he's used to, but slow and thoughtful. Kissing's not really his thing, but he's caught off-guard and feels like living in the moment, so he slides his hand behind her neck and kisses her back, keeping it soft, drawing it out until they both begin to gasp for air again. Breaking away, they dissolve into quiet laughter, followed by some more kissing. Like the hero business and everything else in this muddy town, it's not half bad.


	3. Odd Girl Out, April 17, first kiss

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Author's Note: Here's my next entry for April 17's ff_friday challenge. Subject: first kiss. What I noticed was that everybody was writing fics about people **getting** their first kiss; what if someone didn't? Length: 429 words.

Odd Girl Out

By Trisana McGraw

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When she was fourteen, before the Academy, she was River Tam. But now, after she has been poked and prodded, invaded and scarred, she doesn't feel like the same girl. She's seventeen now, but she doesn't think she has grown up yet.

On the ship, she feels like a little child trying to sneak into the grown-ups' party. Everyone around her has someone else, their other half, but she is isolated. Cold and numb, she is set apart from the heat of passion all around her. Always has been, always will be.

She never kissed anyone, not even before she went to the Academy. She didn't realize it, but there had always been a certain aloofness in her attitude, even before she was broken into unrecognizable pieces. She spent time with boys from her classes, of course, but the most intimate touch she ever experienced was the holding of hands, nothing more.

The first time she encountered a kiss, she happened upon Wash and Zoe while she was walking throughout the ship and through the crew's minds. Zoe and Wash's open, heated affection flooded her body as if she were plugged into a live wire. Electricity coursed through her, making her feel incredibly warm. She staggered away, lightheaded with this new, addictive sensation. On other occasions, when their passion rose again, she greedily captured it for herself.

When that moment finally came for Simon and Kaylee, she rejoiced with them after months of anticipation had built up, which only made the resulting kiss sweeter. Their blossoming romance strengthened with each kiss and touch that followed, and she shared in their happiness.

The mounting desire all around her reached its peak when Mal and Inara finally gave in to their raging feelings. One kiss triggered the release of pent-up feelings and made heat rush through her body, blazing over her icy skin.

But even though the sustaining energy fought off the cold for a little while, it never stayed with her completely. She tried again and again to recapture it, but each time the feeling fled sooner, lingered less. Soon she found herself detached again while everyone else prospered in their bliss.

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Everyone else's love fills the ship, but she can not steal any of it to call her own. No matter how much it courses through her body, she is merely an observer, doomed to never take part in her own desires.

The Sleeping Beauty continues to lie in an undisturbed slumber. It's doubtful that her Prince Charming will ever come to wake her with the kiss of life.


	4. Life Lessons, April 24, right and wrong

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Author's Note: Ficlet for ff_friday. Subject: right and wrong. Length: 906 words. Whew, just under the limit!

Life Lessons

By Trisana McGraw

His mother was closing the corral where the cattle milled about when he came limping home from school. Hearing his footsteps, she turned to greet him, but upon seeing his face her radiant smile was instantly replaced with a look of concern.

"Malcolm, what happened to you?" she cried, dropping to her knees and taking his face in her hands. Soft, cool fingers brushed over the purpling bruise on his cheekbone, his black eye, and his puffy lip. "Inside, young man, right now." Taking him by the hand, she noticed that his palms were scraped as well.

She forced him to sit in a wooden chair by the table as she went to get some disinfectant and bandages. Malcolm sagged back into the chair and sighed, wincing as he prodded his left eye with one grimy finger and received a jolt of pain.

His mother returned with a damp cloth that she used to wipe the dirt off his face. "What happened?" she repeated.

Mal sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. "I got into a fight," he muttered sulkily.

"A fight?" his mother cried, which was the reaction he had been both expecting and dreading. "Son, you shouldn't fight with other boys. It won't do you or them any good." He sighed again and turned his body to gaze out the window.

Her eagle eyes noticed that he grimaced when he shifted one leg. "And what happened here?" she asked, rolling up his pant leg. She gasped when she saw a long, bleeding gash on his shin. "Malcolm, did those boys do this too?"

He shook his head, sending his light brown hair flying from side to side. "No, Mama. On the way home, I tripped and scraped my leg on a rock." He pouted. "Today didn't go smooth."

She couldn't help but laugh a little at her son's solemnity, even at eight years old. "Apparently it didn't." She soon grew serious again and asked, "Now, Mal honey, why did you get into a fight?" He was silent, so she pressed some disinfectant over the gash, which made him gasp and sit up straighter. His eyes met hers, and some of the defiance – much like his father's, she reflected sadly – melted away.

"One of the boys at school was insulting you," he said. "He said you were a weak woman – which I know isn't true, `cause I bet you've done more work than he's ever done in his life – and he called you a whore, `cause Dad left and `cause you have all the men staying here helping out. But I didn't believe a word of that, and I didn't want him sayin' bad things about you, so I punched him. Only thing was, he punched me harder."

His mother shut her eyes for a long time and drew in a deep breath. She caressed his face again, her hands gentle even though they were covered with callouses. "Thank you, baby, for defending my honor. But I don't want you getting hurt because of a few untruths being spread about me. It's not worth you getting beaten up to the point that you can't move – or help around the ranch, for that matter." Mal nodded sheepishly, remembering that his duties to his home mattered above all.

"But I want them to shut up," he protested.

"I know," his mother sighed. "But there are going to be people out there who won't shut up, who will keep fighting for what they believe to be right. Just like you."

"But I know that they're wrong."

"You and other people may feel that way, but those other people might think that they're doing the right thing, and that you're wrong. The world isn't all black and white, Malcolm, as you'll probably learn sooner rather than later." Though he didn't understand how colors fit into it, he listened attentively. He believed everything his mother told him.

She placed a bandage over his leg and then set to putting disinfectant on his palms. "Everyone's defending the cause that they believe in, and some of those people will stay rooted to it for the rest of their lives, if they put enough faith into it. And yes, maybe they're wrong, but maybe you are too. No matter what, you have to fight for what _you_ believe to be right."

"Like Jesus?"

A smile curved her lips. Mal seemed to find a way to bring God into everything. "Yes, honey, sort of like Jesus. He believed in bringing the word of God to his people, which was the right thing to do, but many other people believed that Jesus was wrong and decided to kill him. But he died for what he knew to be right, and he allowed each and every one of us to be alive today.

"Now, let's get you some raw meat for that eye. You're going to have a shiner for sure."

Her words stayed with him for years and years after that day. _Defend what you believe in, and you'll know you're right, even if nobody else does._ So when the disagreements between the Allied Planets and the slowly-growing Independents developed into riots and skirmishes, and when both sides declared war, Mal knew without a doubt that he would fight for his rights. And even if all those rich folk didn't understand, there were plenty of Browncoats who did, and that was all he needed.


	5. Ignorant, April 24, right and wrong

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Author's Note: Ficlet for ff_friday. April 24's subject: right and wrong. Length: exactly 1,000 words. It appears my curse for writing long fiction has struck again!

Ignorant

By Trisana McGraw

From the start, something was always not-quite-right about Jubal Early. He grew up hearing whispers about how Dad had left Mom because of him, the worthless runt. He didn't believe anything he heard, though; Mother was his world, the only thing that mattered, and he was hers. They got along together and they got by.

Jubal was a happy child, but even his mother would admit that sometimes he was hard to handle. He had an ugly temper that reared its head often. Somehow or another he found a way to get into trouble, and as he grew older, it became more frequent.

He was not ashamed of his actions, nor would he try to change, because he didn't know the difference between right and wrong. Even as he went into his pre-teenage years, he was blind to the stress he caused his already overburdened mother.

She made a big mistake by leaving him home alone one night while she was working. He had wanted to keep himself warm, so he made a fire with the forbidden matches. Before he knew it, bright flames had leaped from floor to walls to ceiling, and he was surrounded in a blazing inferno. Scared and disoriented, he barely made it out of the house as the authorities pulled up, his mother following. He bared his teeth at the policemen trying to question him, but he immediately subdued upon seeing his mother's hard-worn face filled with weary disappointment.

After that, she tried to rein him in, but that only inflamed his temper. She then tried more peaceful endeavors, like bringing home a fluffy golden puppy one day. Jubal loved it and thought up clever tricks to teach it, but it always shied away when he came near. At first he was irritated, but he figured that it was just a game, so he chased the dog instead of waiting for it to come to him. When he had caught it, he decided to try a new game, one he had thought up himself with the kitchen knife. Rather than laugh and enjoy the fun, like he did, the dog whimpered and cried, until he slapped it into silence. When he had cleaned up afterward, the puppy fled, but he found ways to catch it and play with it again. During their final game, when the dog's whimpers quieted and it went still, he grasped that he – little Jubal, good-for-nothing – had controlled, then extinguished the puppy's life. The realization filled him with a strange exhilaration, and he found that he enjoyed the power that he had held over the dog, power he could hold over people too. Even then his mother didn't – or maybe just couldn't – suspect him of such brutality; that was her final mistake.

At night he could hear the whispers more keenly, and they told him what he had no choice but to do. He crept through their new home, silent and unnoticeable as a shadow, and found her sleeping peacefully on the couch. She looked so beautiful, yet the voices urged him more strongly that she was too good for this world and needed to pass into a higher, better place for her.

She screamed when she saw him looming over her with a blunt object and began running. He chased her, calling to her that everything would be all right. He finally cornered her; she was sobbing, but once he struck her in the head, she fell silent. Soon, he knew, her suffering would be over.

Hers didn't end, and his only began. Somehow, the police arrived at his house. They dragged him away as he told them not to disturb his mother, who should be resting peacefully.

His mother survived the night while he shivered in a cold jail cell. In the days that followed, doctors came and said that they were taking him away. Outraged, he tried to fight them, tried to tell them that this was wrong; he wasn't supposed to go away, his mother was. But no one listened, and he was forced to take a long ride away from his only home. Mother was there to say goodbye, but he could see the clear relief mixed with the despair in her eyes as she waved, knowing that he would never come back.

At the Alliance mental hospital, something changed. He learned _right_ and _wrong_ as pounds on his back that left him weak and sore. When he didn't do things how he was supposed to, he was beaten and drugged. The "treatments" were wrong, he learned, but he had no way of fighting back.

It was in the hospital that he realized that the whispers surrounding him came not from others' lips but from inside his head, so that even when he was isolated, they still taunted him at night. They grew louder and louder, sometimes overshadowing his thoughts entirely. Every time he did something, they would pipe up with "Does that seem right to you?" constantly debating his actions.

When he escaped, he knew what he had to do, what was _right_, after all he had endured. Maybe he had always known it, in the back of his mind; now it had come forward, so that this scheme possessed all of his attention like some crazy obsession.

Crazy, that's what he was. Glad he had a name for it; it made it less confusing when stated so coldly. He went out and learned how to kill people properly. He exercised his power often, because how could he improve if he didn't do it as often as possible?

Now that bloodlust has sent him floating in the bone-chilling cold of space, alone except for the voices and his last precious breaths. Some would say it's a fitting punishment for such a disturbed man, but then again one had to consider that even he was a human being, and that this was a terrible way for a man to die.

Does it seem right to you?


	6. New Feelings, April 24, right and wrong

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Author's Note: Ficlet for ff_friday. Inspired by (and hopefully not too familiar to) taraljc's Right and Wrong and Hawkmoth's Dealing. Subject: right and wrong. Length: 621 words.

New Feelings

By Trisana McGraw

He knew this was gonna feel uncomfortable.

Mal didn't mean that in a bad way; he wasn't complaining about what went on between him and a certain woman on his ship. He just wasn't used to sleeping in her bed. The expensive silk sheets on top and under him chafed his skin, which was so accustomed to much rougher blankets, more than a burlap sack could have. There was also a sweet scent wafting into his nose and mouth; Jayne was right about that incense smelling weird. Of course, there were also some more pleasant sensations present right now, like a warm fuzziness all through his exhausted body and the first real rest he'd felt in _forever_. 

Then again, maybe his thoughts about everything that had changed between him and Inara could be attributed to what was keeping him awake. It was a lot to take in; after finally admitting some sort of mutual affection, they'd finally kissed. All the anticipation leading up to that moment had been entirely worth it. The next thing they'd known, they were down on the bed and past the point of no return. And you know what – he was _happy_ about it, about everything. He thought he'd forgotten what being happy felt like, but Inara brought all those feelings back and made even the bitterest of captains feel like life was okay once in a while.

He shifted, pulling up some of the coverlet, then decided that he felt too hot. The gorram pillow was so soft that it molded to his head; all his life he'd leaned his head on something that could at least support its weight. His next idea was to prop himself up on one arm, but he didn't stay comfortable for long, and he let his head fall back again.

Attuned to the every movement, every _breath_ of the woman beside him, he immediately felt Inara shift and turn over. She snuggled up against his body, her head resting against his shoulder, and at the touch of her skin on his he instantly stopped fidgeting.

Her skin was another kind of softness altogether. It was smooth and unblemished, and the first time they'd met he'd feared that it was so soft it would tear like rice paper if he pressed too hard. But he learned that her hide was tougher than that, so much tougher. Now she was curled up against him, all bare skin, silky hair, and warm breaths, and he was the one feeling weak.

Once in a while, the `verse decided to cut him some slack. He was glad this was one of those times, when he could momentarily forget about all the hardships of life out here in the black and focus instead on the diamonds in the rough.

Inara muttered something against his shoulder. _She's probably complainin' about all my movin' about_, Mal thought wryly. Running his fingers through her curly hair, he considered that she had probably rolled over just to stop his fidgeting. He pressed a kiss to her head, thinking, _Well, it worked._

Things couldn't get much better than this; well, unless some freak accident wiped out all of the Alliance and happened to get them rich at the same time. But he and Inara had suffered countless obstacles in their relationship to be where they were at this moment, and for now he didn't need any other miracles to make him happy. He could feel _Serenity_ pulsing and breathing just like the woman at his side, and the ever-bright stars sparkling beyond. With his best girls close, he allowed himself to finally drift to sleep.

It felt different, sure. But not wrong. It was more right than anything he'd ever known.


	7. Improper Behavior, April 24, rightwrong

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Author's Note: Firefly drabble for the LJ ff_friday community. It was intended for the challenge "right and wrong," but I didn't write it in time. So here it is now! Length: 207 words.

Improper Behavior

By Trisana McGraw

Inara was nearing her peak, and never in her life had she wanted anything more badly. Their bodies were joined as one, moving in tandem over the satin sheets. Her hands grasped his arms, his back, the blankets, desperate for something to grip while he sent her into spirals of pleasure. She could feel that he needed release as badly as she did, and when he increased his pace she did too, wanting only to go past that point of no return. She tightened her legs around his waist as he pressed his face into her neck, moaning her name. She had never lost herself in sex like this, but she was beyond the point of caring how she acted. The sensations ripped over her like a tidal wave, drowning her in the simple _feelings_ devoid of thoughts and regrets; all that mattered was this moment, right now.

She threw her head back against the soft pillow as her body arched into her partner's. Sucking in a deep breath, she called out the name of the man she loved. "Mal!"

"Wha --?" Her client's head snapped up. The intensity of their lovemaking began to subside, both wearing identical expressions of shock as reality set in again.


	8. A Proper Home, May 1, home

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Author's Note: This challenge has given me the chance to write for `Fly characters I never thought I would write about. Here's a drabble written mostly in Wash's POV. Sort of similar to Harriet Vane's entry for the same challenge, but I thought this up before I read hers. VERY SLIGHT SPOILER FOR ONE LINE OF DIALOGUE FROM ZOE IN "HEART OF GOLD" THAT GIVES NOTHING AWAY ABOUT THE PLOT. Subject: home. Length: 440 words.

A Proper Home

By Trisana McGraw

It had been bothering him since they had stepped back on to the ship after their honeymoon. He knew a man's duties as husband: take care of the wife, support her with all she should need, like a home and a life. But Zoë seemed able to support herself fine, and he was feeling rather useless.

He was at the helm, while Zoë sat on the console beside him. He absently flicked a few switches, his mind trying to work around how to say what was troubling him.

Finally he decided to just blurt it out. "Do you ever think about settling down?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, living in a real house that's firmly rooted to the ground, in a neighborhood with other people living the same way. White picket fence in the yard, kids and a dog, that whole deal."

Zoë's forehead creased in confusion, and Wash realized that it had never truly crossed her mind. Upon seeing the unease in his face, she hopped off the console and placed a hand on his arm. "What's this all about?"

He shrugged, keeping his eyes trained on the blinking lights. He could feel her stare boring into him, and he eventually surrendered and looked up at her. "I just thought, being your husband, I had a certain duty to give you a proper home, and all."

She laughed and stroked his cheek. "Husband, I _have_ a home: this ship. I've never wanted to be tied down on a planet. I grew up on a ship, and I wanna keep on living like that. Besides, you told me that you got into flight school just to see the stars. It sounds like you wanna fly as much as I do."

He had to admit, she was right about that. He managed a small smile, which she returned. "You're right, Zo. It's just that, some couples want to stay rooted to one place, you know?"

She laughed again, her voice like the heavenly tinkling of bells. "Honey, neither of us is exactly standard, and I thank God for that every day."

"But I still feel like I owe something to you, you know . . . ?"

"You give me all that I need, Wash. You keep me going every day." She bent down to kiss him.

"I love you," he said when they pulled away.

She came behind him and massaged his shoulders while he fiddled with the controls, keeping them soaring through the black. His plastic dinosaurs were perched on the console next to her rifle, and he realized that this _was_ his home. "I love you too."


	9. No Place Like It, May 1, home

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Author's Note: Ficlet for the LJ ff_friday challenge. Subject: home. Length: 740 words. SPOILERS FOR "HEART OF GOLD"!!!

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gôu pì= bullshit, thanks to taraljc's glossary on her site.

No Place Like It

By Trisana McGraw

Jayne let out a small yawn and turned on one side, pulling up the blankets and reflecting that his night had gone pretty well. He'd gotten laid, and now he was ready to catch some sleep before the big ambush by Burgess' men tomorrow. He had no doubt that they'd get out of things in one piece; they always did. He wriggled a little bit, getting comfortable in the bed, and yawned again. He was drifting off just as . . .

"So where are you from?" Helen's voice came from next to him.

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Gôu pìi, he thought, annoyed. He didn't answer and hoped that she would think he was asleep. But a moment later, she whispered again, "Jayne. Where are you from?"

Why did he have to nab the whore who liked to talk after sex? He rolled over to face her. Helen lay on her side, her head propped up on one arm, her other hand holding the blanket over her body. Her eyes were wide and expectant.

"Tell me you don't do this with all the other guys you sleep with," he groaned.

Helen blinked and looked down at the mattress. One bare shoulder lifted in a shrug. "I'm scared about tomorrow. Talkin' makes me feel better."

Jayne sighed, feeling a little sorry for her. But she was a big girl; she could take care of herself while he got the sleep he needed. He started to turn away, but he stopped when he felt Helen's hand on his arm.

"Please," she whispered. "I can't sleep, I'm so nervous `bout what's gonna happen."

He gritted his teeth. Then, wondering when he had gotten soft, he turned again so that he was facing her and waited.

Helen's face brightened. "So, where'd you grow up?" she asked.

He leaned back against the pillow and answered shortly, "Border planet, far from the Alliance."

"Didya have a lot of money?" 

He almost laughed; she was a woman after his own heart, going straight to the stuff that mattered. "We got by."

"Brothers? Sisters?"

He shrugged, though suddenly he had a memory of more innocent, less troublesome days. "Sure, I had a few sibs."

She was staring at him expectantly, but she didn't ask anything else. He didn't realize that she was waiting for him to ask her about her life, and when he didn't she went on anyway. "I grew up here, mostly in the Heart of Gold. It's been my home since I was a teenager, and Nandi's like a mama. With all of us girls like sisters, it's kinda like an extended sleepover, ya know?"

He'd had enough experience with his sisters to know what sleepovers were like, and the resulting mental image made him snicker quietly. Helen, apparently finished, was silent.

__

Free, he thought with relief, and closed his eyes. A moment later, the silence was broken by a barely audible sniffle. He almost wanted to ignore it, but something made him open his eyes again. Helen was wiping her eyes with her hand, and when she saw him, she hurriedly ducked her head.

"What's wrong?" he asked with an exasperated sigh.

"Just scared," she replied in a tiny voice. Before he could ask, "Still?" she continued. "You said people was gonna die, and I'm not ready to go."

"Look, I didn't mean it that way," he hastened to assure her. The last thing he needed was Helen bawling, and he the only person to comfort her. "Sure, folks will prob'ly get shot, and maybe we'll lose somebody, but you'll be okay."

She looked up at him. "How do you know?"

"Look, woman, I've been in more fights than the number of guys you've slept with."

"I dunno," she said. "It's a pretty big number. . . ."

"Anyway, I know how to fight. `Sides, you'll be up here with me. I'm a damn good shot, and I'll keep you safe." He awkwardly patted her shoulder.

"I just don't wanna lose my home," she said quietly. "There's nothing like it."

"You'll be fine," he repeated. "Now, get some sleep. We got a big day tomorrow."

She smiled, and he had to admit she looked kinda pretty. "Thanks, Jayne."

"Anytime," he replied. Helen finally turned on her side, and soon he heard her breathing slowly and evenly. When he too closed his eyes, he dreamed of a place that he hadn't seen or thought about in a long while.


	10. On the Cortex, May 8, specific words

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Author's Note: Ficlet for the LiveJournal ff_friday challenge. Subject: Use these words: "What do you want?" "I want it all. I want everything." "You're not going to get it." Length: 557 words.

On the Cortex

By Trisana McGraw

As he passed by Inara's shuttle on the way to his own bunk, Jayne heard female giggling coming from inside. He rolled his eyes as he imagined Kaylee and Inara having some "girl talk" or whatever it was they did in there. He was about to keep going when he remembered that Mal wanted to talk with Kaylee. So, he slid open the door and stepped inside.

Kaylee and Inara were seated in front of a screen, giggling and talking about something he could really care less about. Kaylee noticed him first, and called, "Hi, Jayne."

"Cap'n wants to talk to you, Kaylee," he said in return, leaning against one of the silk draperies and grinning at Inara, who looked less than pleased to see the hulking mercenary standing in her precious shuttle.

"Okay, okay," Kaylee answered, "just lemme finish watching this with `Nara."

Glancing at the vid screen displaying two men talking, Jayne rolled his eyes. "What's this _go se_?"

"It's a soap, called _As the `Verse Turns_ –"

"Soap?" Jayne repeated, not comprehending.

Now it was Kaylee's turn to roll her eyes. "A soap opera, silly."

"Whatever," Jayne sighed, not interested. He turned to go when an image on the screen caught his eye. "Hey, who's the chick with the gun?"

"That's Ione," Kaylee answered.

Jayne laughed. "My kinda woman."

"No, we don't like her," Kaylee said. "See, she killed her aging husband so she could inherit his fortune, then ran away with her son-in-law Donatello, who she's been having a secret affair with from the start."

Jayne laughed again. "Smart woman, going straight for the money. I'd take her anytime."

Kaylee shushed him. "Now Donatello's confronting her about the money."

On the screen, Ione pointed a gun at Donatello, who looked both furious and terrified.

__

"What do you want?" he asked desperately, holding his hands in the air.

"I want it all," Ione said. "I want everything."

"You're not going to get it," he said defiantly, but she only smiled and cocked her gun. He leapt toward her, but a gunshot rang out, and the screen faded to black.

"Oh, no!" Kaylee gasped. "She can't get away with it!"

The announcer on the screen said, "Tune in next week for the shocking conclusion to _As the `Verse Turns_."

Jayne sighed, bored again. "I'm going. Kaylee, remember to talk to Mal." She nodded absently as he stepped out of the shuttle and shut the door behind him.

Kaylee turned wide eyes on Inara. "Can you believe it? I didn't think she'd actually shoot him. Ooh, I can't wait to see what happens next week!"

"You don't have to," the older woman said with a smile. "These are reruns. The show was cancelled a few years ago, but I taped most of the episodes. So we can watch the next one right now – unless you need to talk with Mal first?"

Kaylee sighed. "I prob'ly should. I'll be right back, `Nara, so don't start them without me."

"I won't," Inara replied with a laugh as Kaylee hurried out of her shuttle.

As she jogged down the halls to the helm, Kaylee wondered what the outcome would be of Ione's betrayal. Shaking her head, she thought, _Those rich people don't know nothin'. They never shoulda cancelled a show this good. I don't know what they were thinkin'._


	11. They Took Away Christmas, May 8, words

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Author's Note: Fic about Simon and River's childhood for the LJ ff_friday challenge. (Also my first time writing Sane!River, as opposed to the tortured girl we saw on the show.) Subject: use the following exchange: "What do you want?" "I want it all. I want everything." "You're not going to get it." Length: 996 words; I just barely kept it under the limit!

They Took Away Christmas

By Trisana McGraw

Sighing, Simon rolled over. The voices of his father and sister came from the next room, too low for him to distinguish any words but loud enough to keep him awake. He pulled the silk pillow over his head, but he could still pick up faint murmurs.

With an exasperated groan, he flung the pillow off his head and sat up in bed. He barely got enough sleep at the hospital, what with the day-long operations that left him drained and the endless calls that came at the worst times of night.

He wasn't saying he disliked being a doctor. It was his calling; that was crystal-clear. He just wished that when he came home for the Christmas holiday, he could catch some extra hours of sleep without a family quarrel keeping him awake.

Things at home seemed to have worsened since he had left for the MedAcad a few years ago. River was left alone with their parents, though she did have school during the week, and they were working or at some social function for the rest of the time. However, every time he'd come home for vacation, he'd felt a palpable relief in the air. More often than not, River directed stony glares at their father, who still spoke her to patronizingly even though she was nearly fourteen years old.

Expelling a heavy sigh and shoving the covers aside, Simon slipped through the doorway and walked toward where he thought the sounds were coming from, thinking up a polite way to ask them to shut up.

The door to his parents' room was closed; he imagined his mother was sleeping peacefully. She'd looked wearier since the last time he'd been home, and he wondered what kind of toll this stress was taking on her.

Simon paused in the hallway as he heard the River and his father on the other side of the wall. He peeked around the edge, feeling, for some reason, like a little boy snooping around somewhere he wasn't supposed to be.

The two of them were in the family room, which was actually rather ironic because the feelings between them were anything but familial. Their father, wearing his dressing gown, sat on the couch, staring at a newspaper. River stood over him in her nightgown, her long hair cascading over her shoulders. Simon was about to step into the room when River's words stopped him.

"Why don't you give me more credit?" she demanded. "I'm gifted, just like Simon."

"At what?" Gabriel Tam scoffed. "Dancing? You'll never go anywhere in the universe if all you can do is move your feet to music."

"I can do math, too!" River protested, her voice rising. "And I read at a higher level than most of my teachers! I know so much about science, too –"

"Hush, child!" Gabriel hissed, flinging his newspaper aside and sitting up straighter. "Do you want to wake the entire household?"

"That's all you treat me as, a child!" River shot back. "But I'm not. You just won't give me a chance. You let Simon be what he wanted."

"No, Simon became a doctor because _we_, your mother and I, wanted him to," her father replied. "It just happened that he liked it as well."

Simon frowned, suddenly feeling lost, unsure of what to believe.

"Well, then, what about me?" River asked furiously. "What am I supposed to do? I have the talent, just let me use it."

"You will," Gabriel told her. "I've written away to the Academy, on another world. Maybe they'll take you in."

"You're just sending me away?" River shrieked. Gabriel sprang to his feet and grabbed her shoulders. He shook her roughly as tears began to trickle down her cheeks. "What about what I want?"

"All right, what do you want?" he demanded.

"I want it all," she answered, her voice catching on a sob. "I want everything."

"You're not going to get it," her father said, "so you may as well stop entertaining the fantasy."

River jerked out of his grip. "Simon has everything," she said. "An important job, the admiration of everyone around him. He isn't trapped at home waiting for his life to begin." With that, she stomped out, her hair flying behind her. Simon pressed himself into the curve of the wall, holding his breath. Gabriel sighed and passed a hand over his face; then he gathered up his newspaper and slowly walked towards his room. It wasn't until the house was entirely still that Simon crept back to his room. He climbed into bed and pulled the covers up tightly, as the silence seemed to press inwards. There were no voices disturbing him, but he still couldn't find sleep.

The way in which River regarded their father the next day was icier than the snow outside, and Regan Tam and Simon were left with the difficult task of inserting some Christmas cheer into their troubled family.

On Christmas morning, River received a letter from the Academy welcoming her to join for the new semester. She read the letter to herself in silence, and when she announced the good news, her joy seemed hollow.

"Isn't this wonderful?" Regan gushed, hugging her daughter. "What a lovely Christmas gift. Oh, I can't wait to tell Isabelle; she'll be so envious that her child didn't make it into such a prestigious school." She looked expectantly to Gabriel, who sat at the head of the table reading his newspaper. He'd looked up only once, when River had announced her enrollment.

"There, you see?" he told his daughter. "Here's the beginning of your life.'"

River's face slowly lit up, but now Simon wasn't sure of her real reason for wanting to go to the Academy. He didn't know if she really looked forward to opportunities for a brighter future, or if she were just eager to leave behind her home. If her reason really were the latter, he realized he couldn't blame her.


	12. Clamor, May 8, specific words

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Author's Note: Ficlet for the LJ ff_friday challenge. May 8's subject: use the words given. I stretched the challenge words a little bit for this drabble. Length: just about 1,000 words. My word count included ". . ." as three words, so I'm just about at the limit.

****

Clamor

By Trisana McGraw

****

Simon would say she is awake, but he still doesn't understand that no matter what her body does, her mind is always sleeping. Tonight, she just wants some peace and quiet, but in every room people's spoken and unspoken words reaching through the walls and filling her mind. It's becoming a chore to carry pieces of them inside, as if these parts can replace the lost bits.

Near the engine, Kaylee tosses and turns restlessly, half-formed thoughts flitting through her mind. She briefly remembers Jubal Early's haunting calm, how he had entered her home uninvited and had made threats to similarly violate her body. Warm tears leak from her eyes, and she shakes her head angrily. She needs something to take her mind off this trauma. Letting her mind drift, she imagines Simon, and immediately she relaxes.

After basking in the glow of her fantasies, she reopens her eyes and makes a decision: She wants that doctor. She is a healthy young woman who has always wanted to better her life. She got herself the job on _Serenity_; then she made the effort to befriend Inara. Now she has a new target in mind; she knows what she wants, and it will be the `verse to pay if she doesn't get it. Pulling on her grease-stained jumpsuit, she walks decisively toward the galley.

The many thoughts are becoming more intense, shoving at one another in River's mind. As she tries to receive them all, they begin to overlap.

Zoë and Wash are spending a luxurious night in bed, but they're doing something new. He has her pinned beneath him, her skin warm and flushed, her face aglow with contentment.

He chuckles, gleeful to be the one in the dominant position. He has her hands clasped tightly in his, their fingers intertwined. He dips his head to her neck and nibbles and kisses his way up to her lips as they both moan.

His eyes shining, he asks, "What do you want?" while moving his body against hers.

She arches against him, loving every moment of loving him, and gasps, "I – "

". . . want it all," Mal tells Inara, completely serious. He never saw himself opening up to her like this, but the time for confessions has come faster than either of them thought. They're sitting on cushions in her shuttle, and he takes her hand in his. "I want everything." He's gone through so many painful hardships in his life, and he desperately wants something happy in the black, some warmth for his broken heart.

Inara stares at him with so much sadness in her eyes, placing her other hand on top of his. She wants this too, but she's learned that people can't follow simple desire alone. Neither of them is ready for this. There are so many complications, and she honestly doesn't know if the two of them have enough strength to brave it together right now. Watching the thoughts flash through her mind, Mal already knows what her answer is. Companion training allows her to keep the tears out of her voice as she finally replies, "You're –"

". . . not going to get it," Jayne says calmly, using a cloth to carefully, almost lovingly, wipe first Vera's barrel and then the handle. Sitting across from him, Simon wishes he had something to similarly occupy his hands with. He looks down at his smooth, pale palms as if evaluating them for the first time. When he thinks Jayne isn't looking, he risks a glance at the mercenary's tanned, callused palms, thinking about the difference between them.

He quickly focuses on a bowl to his left when Jayne's eyes lift. Jayne's faster than Simon realized, though, and the mercenary grins. "Don't be jealous of my hands, doc; yours are prettier." His grin widens when Simon flushes.

After a moment Jayne adds, "You're not gonna get it, though. A normal life, I mean. Everything,' like you said. None of us can. Sure, maybe you'll find someone to share life with ya, like Wash n Zoë, but they're lucky. I bet you had a great rich home where you came from." River doesn't have to read Simon's mind to know he is thinking, _Rich, yes, but not exactly great._ "But this ship, rickety as she is, is the best home you'll have. You just learn not to hope for anything past what you can do day to day." Jayne's eyes drop back to his beloved weapon, and he adds in a lower voice, "Makes for less disappointments."

Simon is slackjawed at Jayne's small speech. Finally Jayne, noticing Simon's restlessness, looks up again and says, "Here, you wanna do somethin'" – He tosses Simon a rag and points to his knife – "you can start by cleanin' Binky. Be careful, though; he's sharp." With a shadow of a smile that Jayne pretends not to notice, Simon begins cautiously wiping dust from the knife's hilt. Occasionally Jayne offers tips, and they relax into a vaguely friendly conversation about the next job lined up.

Kaylee enters the galley, smiling shyly at Simon, and asks if she might borrow the doctor for a little while. Knowing that "a little while" will be anything but, Jayne sighs and lets Kaylee lead Simon away by the hand. Jayne is left alone at the table with his guns to keep him company, like always.

River stretches out on her bed as the voices inside and outside her head grow fainter. In the passengers' dorms, she can hear Shepherd Book whispering a prayer before retiring for the night. "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want," he intones, his eyes closed and his head tilted toward the place where God is supposed to be listening. "He makes me lie down in green pastures. . . . Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil. . . ." His words linger in her mind as she closes her eyes, sleeping within sleep, wanting only to be a healthy, happy girl again.


	13. Security Blanket, May 15, something lost

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Author's Note: Ficlet for the LJ ff_friday challenge. May 15's subject: something lost. Length: 992 words, what do you know. I'm too lazy to edit it down any more.

Security Blanket

By Trisana McGraw

Even without the intercom, half the ship could hear the vicious string of Chinese coming from the cockpit. Upon venturing inside, Zoë and Mal encountered Wash's bottom sticking out of a console as he continued to swear in both English and Mandarin.

"What's up?" Mal, hands in his pockets, inquired, tilting his head to the side.

Startled by the captain's voice, Wash quickly lifted his head, but he only succeeded in bumping it against the top of the console and worsening his mood. Groaning and rubbing the spot where he was sure to get a bruise, he scurried backward on his knees and slowly got to his feet, where he was met by two pairs of inquiring eyes.

This time it was Zoë who chanced a question. "Something wrong, honey?"

Wash ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "Sorta." He shrugged toward the console he had just been rummaging in.

Mal's eyebrows shot up, and he rushed over to the controls, which were blinking calmly. "What is it? Is something wrong with my ship? `Cause I don't care if you're married to my first mate, Wash; you mess up my girl – I mean _Serenity_ – and I'll space you. `Course, if you hurt Zoë, too, I'd try to kill you, but I think she could take care of herself --"

"No, Mal, there's nothing wrong with your precious ship," Wash shot back, his hand dropping to his side. "I – I can't find my dinos."

Mal's sigh of relief became a laugh. "I'm sorry, your what?"

Not finding the same humor Mal did, Wash glowered. "My dinosaurs; you know the plastic dinos I keep in here. I thought maybe they'd fallen behind the console, but they're nowhere to be seen."

Zoë placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but she was biting her lip to keep from laughing. "Honey, can't you buy some more on the next planet we land on?"

He gripped her hand and sighed again. "I guess, but these have a special significance. You know, like Jayne and his weapons."

"What about me and my weapons?" Jayne asked, stepping into the helm.

"Wash has lost some of his dinosaurs," Mal explained.

Jayne just stood there with a look of confusion on his face, and Wash growled, "_Wuh de ma_, Jayne, don't waste your precious little brain cells trying to understand. But if you could look for `em, I'd appreciate it."

"Yeah, right," the mercenary scoffed, leaving the helm.

"Come on," Zoë said, tugging a reluctant Wash along by the arm, "I'll get you something to drink, and you can get this off your mind. Sir, do you mind taking the helm for a few minutes?"

Mal sent her a baffled look, but she added, "Please?" With a sigh, Mal waved them off.

Simon, looking harried, intercepted the couple on their way to the galley. "By any chance, have either of you seen River? She got up early, and I haven't been able to find her yet."

"You lost your sister?" Wash chuckled. "Don't worry, doctor; it's a small ship, and she's not as tiny as, say, a plastic toy." When Simon looked confused, Wash added, "Some of my dinosaurs are missing, so I guess we have the same problem."

Unable to find an adequate comparison between his precious, troubled sister and a piece of colored plastic, Simon nonetheless fell into step beside them.

Inside the galley, River sat peacefully at the large table, holding a plastic dinosaur in each hand. As they entered, she murmured, "Matter is neither created nor destroyed. It simply passes from hand to hand."

"God, there they are!" Wash cried, leaping toward her. Startled, River shrank back, clutching the toys to her chest.

Feeling Zoë's warning hand on his back, Wash straightened up as Simon came around behind River. "River, honey, did you take those from the cockpit?" he asked cautiously, his eyes on the dinosaurs.

Her eyes darkened, and her lower lip jutted out. Wash sighed, remembering that while she looked very endearing, she still held his toys captive. "I needed them," she finally answered. "They fill in the places the other men took away, the bits of me when I was little." She looked up at Simon. "Remember when we used to play war? The Independents used dinosaurs, just like now." Simon nodded, a wry smile curling the corners of his mouth.

"Well, I didn't fight for a side in the war," Wash interjected; "didn't fight much at all, actually. But I gotta agree that the `verse wouldn't be where it was without the dinosaurs."

Zoë rolled her eyes, smiling at the adorable sight of River. "Wash, you'd hate to make her unhappy, wouldn't you?" She was surprised at her own tenderness toward the child, but then her practical side remembered the things an upset River had done in the past.

Wash knelt so that he and River were at equal eye level. "Hey, River, how's about I let you borrow the dinos, as long as you return them? I understand what it's like to have a security blanket."

"They're like that for you, too," she said, and Wash pulled back, surprised. "I don't know if anyone's told you," he said, "but it's _really_ creepy when you do that."

Standing up again, he took Zoë's hand and said, "I should be getting back to my job." Casting a glance back at River, they left.

Simon watched as River giggled and made the stegosaurus repeatedly jab the more powerful T-rex into submission. "You know," he said after a moment, "I don't know much about them, but I think the T-rex would eventually overpower the stegosaurus."

River smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes like before. "You'd think the T-rex is more powerful, but it took the stegosaurus away from its home and hurt it for no good reason. It's time for the peaceful creature to strike back and kill its aggressor. It's only right."


	14. First Time, May 15, something lost

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Author's Note: Ficlet for the LJ ff_friday challenge. May 15's subject: something lost. I'd sworn that I was finished for this week, but this theme kept bugging me, until I found a way to put it into words. Kinda iffy with how it turned out. Length: 410 words.

First Time

By Trisana McGraw

Wasn't he supposed to feel different? Jayne wondered as he stared up at the dark ceiling, his breath coming in pants that gradually slowed. Sure, his first experience with sex had brought on a motherlode of new, really _good_, sensations, and it had rapidly joined eating and shooting as some of his favorite things, but he had always heard that a person was supposed to have somehow changed as a result of it.

People would say he was a real man now. He snorted and felt his mouth twist into a half-smile. He'd been a man for years before this, his life the lonely, dangerous, day-to-day survival of a mercenary. This had just been another thing to brag about besides the fact that today he'd gotten a dead-on shot at the back of some guy's head.

The mattress beneath him shifted, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the woman who had taken away his virginity stand and begin pulling on her clothes. A strange, sentimental part of him almost asked her to stay, but he caught himself before he said anything as foolish as that.

Feeling his eyes on her, the prostitute turned and tilted her head to the side. "So, was it everything you expected?" The sarcasm in her voice was biting.

He swallowed and dropped his gaze to the bunched-up sheets. "Uh . . . yeah," he mumbled. "It was good. I mean, really great."

She smiled. "I should hope I left you with more of a lasting impression." Not knowing what to say, Jayne kept avoiding her eyes. After a moment, the woman touched his arm; it was the first personal touch they had shared since they had met a few hours ago. "You did great, for a first-timer," she assured him. "Pretty good for seventeen, I gotta say."

__

Almost eighteen, he was tempted to argue, but he didn't want to seem like more of a child in her eyes. He remained silent as she finished dressing, tucked the money he had left on the table into her pocket, and left without a look back. That was what they had agreed on: don't make it personal, keep it as business.

Jayne sighed and sat up, pulling on his pants and yanking out a cigarette. Taking a long drag from it, he sighed and rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Not for the first time, he was alone.


	15. An Open Window, May 15, something lost

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Author's Note: Simon/Kaylee ficlet for the LJ ff_friday challenge. May 15's challenge: something lost. Length: 778 words.

An Open Window

By Trisana McGraw

From his earliest years of childhood, Simon's life had been dictated by specific etiquette that ensured proper behavior by those of the upper class. There was a certain way they were supposed to live, and all that didn't follow it were pigs. People of his stature had to keep themselves composed; he'd sometimes been surprised by how much emotion he'd had to keep to himself, but he'd soon learned that he couldn't afford to make a fool out of himself.

When he'd first come aboard the ship, the others had made fun of his "stuck-up" behavior, but he hadn't expected any of them to understand except for Inara and possibly Shepherd Book (one never knew with that man).

He was fully aware of how much he had lost, years before, in order to safely smuggle River out of the Academy. His parents, for one, had let him know how disappointed and disgraced they were. The honor that came arm-in-arm with his job as head surgeon at the hospital had been erased in an instant, and people whose friendships he had valued were shamed to say that they knew him. Even the few who remained by his side were happy to see him leave.

When he was on _Serenity_, he gradually became a part of the ship's "family" while letting go of his own. Before he'd known it, he was planning crime, toting a firearm, and eating those _go se_ rations as a regular meal – and he and River were happier than either of them had been on Osiris. To his secret delight, the others began to accept him; when Jayne let him actually touch one of his weapons, Simon knew that he'd made a huge accomplishment.

His change hadn't been entirely untroubled. At times he hadn't noticed how his behavior was shifting, but it hit him in a rush the day he found himself staring, disbelieving, at the man lying at his feet, blood gushing out of his stomach through the hole created by Simon's smoking gun. He'd killed the man to save River, but the deed had still shaken him to his core. He was a doctor; he was supposed to save lives, not take them! He'd lived by that code all of his life, and now it had been tossed into the black.

Mal had seen him run into the bushes to vomit, but thankfully the captain hadn't told anyone about Simon's weakness. Unfortunately, Simon's revulsion at his first killing had shown clearly on his face. He'd been dreading jeers and teasing from the crew, which he knew he couldn't handle. However, he'd made enough of a space for himself that everyone, even Jayne to an extent, had given him some sympathy and time to think for the new few days, and he had been immensely grateful for that.

Kaylee had been the first to bring him back. She understood some of the dilemma he was going through because of what he had explained to her on Canton: The only way for him to show his real feelings was by following the proper discipline.

Somehow finding a way to get under his skin, she got him to admit that he thought he was nobody now that he had left his home. Then she made him realize the truth: He was defined not by what was expected of him but by what he actually _did_. Somehow he had known this, deep down, but he had been raised to, he was ashamed to admit, take most things at face value.

"You're Simon Tam, a great doctor and a brave man," Kaylee had told him, her fingers intertwined with his and her eyes wide and honest. He'd kissed her then, and he'd realized that he was no longer the Simon Tam he had been before River had gone to the Academy; he was a million times better than that pompous surgeon.

If his father had been there, he would have lectured until he was blue in the face about the proper way for men to show their affection for women. There was an elaborate courtship involved, with lies layered upon lies; somewhat like Inara's profession, as Mal had once pointed out.

But with Kaylee, things were so different, and Simon mourned what he had been missing all his life. She didn't expect him to display a certain behavior. With her, his "proper" exterior melted away and he was simply just a man loving a woman. She let him forget the strict etiquette he'd been taught and follow his heart.

He had lost his old life forever, but in return he had gained someone to share his new life with.


	16. Methods of Negotiation, May 22, somethin

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Author's Note: Wash/Zoë fic (pre-marriage) for the LJ ff_friday challenge. May 22's subject: something stolen, and something freely given. Length: 687 words.

Methods of Negotiation

By Trisana McGraw

"Zoë!" Mal called from the open hatch. "We've got some money to pick up."

"Be right there, Sir," she called back tersely. "I can't seem to find my holster." She stepped into the cockpit, where Wash leaned back lazily in the pilot's chair, his back to her as he held something in his hands.

"Wash, have you seen my holster –" She got an answer when he stood, at the same time turning to face her, and held up the leather vest with the gun attached. 

His mouth quirked upward in an impish grin. "Don't see a lot of women wearing leather nowadays, and that's a shame. It looks really sexy on you – and the gun just adds another element of danger."

She didn't have time for this, no matter how cute he was acting. Zoë reached for the vest, but he jerked it away. Surprised, she placed her hands on her hips and fixed him with a solemn stare that had proved to unnerve men a million times tougher than her Hawaiian-shirted boyfriend. "Give it to me, Wash."

Wash was unsuccessful at hiding his gulp. The Stare, combined with the command in her voice, was going to make this harder than he had thought. He forced a smile and brought the vest to eye-level as if casually examining it, aware of Zoë's eyes burning a hole straight through him. Finally he said, "I'll give it to you – on one condition."

She tilted her head to the side, still not amused. "And that is?"

"You go on a date with me tonight." Wash swallowed and waited for her reaction. 

She laughed, and he felt a small surge of anger that she was giving him the brush-off. "I don't know if I can. Once the captain and I collect this money, we have to be off this planet and headed for the next one in a few hours. You know that."

"I didn't realize that you'd be too busy to discuss our relationship," Wash retorted.

She was tempted to smack him, but after a few moments Zoë understood why he was annoyed; the crew had had several big jobs, one after another without rest, for the last month. It had ceased to bother her long ago, but it still put Wash on edge. "Honey," she sighed, taking a step closer. "You knew when we started dating that we'd both be busy and that it would be difficult to have private time together."

"But isn't it worth a little rescheduling, then?" he countered, placing his hands on her elbows. "Zoë, baby, I really want to spend some time alone, just the two of us, without any jobs or responsibilities. If it can only be one private dinner out of the month, then so be it. But I won't let that get taken over by work."

Her face softened even more. "All right, then. How about tonight we look at the schedule for the next couple of days? Then we can arrange for a night off the ship when we land on Persephone."

"Sounds good to me," he answered, already feeling more content at the prospect of some time alone with Zoë.

"Now I really have to go," she said. "Mal's waiting for me." Before he realized it, she grabbed the vest of out his hands, and Wash's expression darkened both at the mention of the captain and how easily she had taken the vest back.

Zoë's lips turned upward in a smile, and part of his sulkiness drained away. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, and he was in heaven. As she pulled back and shrugged on her vest, he stuttered, "Wh – what was that for?"

She was still smiling when she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a longer kiss on the lips. "Has anyone ever told you that you're cute when you're assertive? Maybe _you_ should be the one wearing the leather." 

With that she left Wash in the cockpit. Still dazed, he dropped into his chair and stared at the dinosaurs arranged haphazardly on the console. "I am a lucky man."


	17. The Thought That Counts, May 22, stolen&

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Author's Note: Mal/Inara fic for the LJ ff_friday challenge. May 22's subject: something stolen, and something freely given. Length: just about 1,000 words. My computer counts ". . ." as three words, so I gave myself some leeway with those.

__

yunchun = stupid

The Thought That Counts

By Trisana McGraw

Inara knew without looking that Mal was at her door; no one else regularly visited, except Kaylee, who politely knocked. Inara regarded him silently, her hands folded in her skirt. It amused her how often he appeared here, yet always for the wrong reasons.

"So, you'll be off soon?" he asked.

"Yes." He hadn't said anything unpleasant; she hoped he might refrain from torturing her just for today.

He kept talking. "Off at your Guild House, where you can catch up with your fellow whores. Do you compare clients? That'd take at least the whole day."

Her anger flared. She'd been _yunchun_ to think he would act civilized. She hadn't even said anything to set him off! "I'll be at the Guild House for less than an hour; most of my time will be at the spa."

"_The spa_," he mocked. "You'll probably want to wash all that dust and grime from my ship off your sensitive skin."

"I have a right to enjoy myself," she argued, rapidly losing her inner battle to be the better person. "Why are you crankier than usual?"

He was silent for several uncomfortable moments. Finally, he challenged, "You're so eager to get away from here, ain't you?"

"I do have a life off _Serenity_. I'd prefer a day to myself."

"You've _lots_ of time to yourself. You just choose to spend it servicing men."

For a moment their eyes locked as his words hung between them. Then both glanced away, and he strode out as the same regret crossed their minds: he hadn't even wished her a happy birthday.

***

"Remember to be back before six," Kaylee reminded Inara as she hugged her. "Oh, and . . . have a happy birthday."

"I will," Inara replied, laughing. Pulling away, she gave Mal a curt nod, avoiding his eyes. Then they watched her silk-clad figure walk slowly down the street toward the temple-like structure located a few blocks away.

Once Inara was gone, Kaylee announced, "Shepherd, let's check out the tasties. I wanna find something delicious for tonight."

There was a sudden clattering behind them; then Jayne was at the open hatch, panting. "Huh? What about whores?"

He was met with blank stares, until Kaylee blinked a few times and realized his confusion. "No, Jayne, I don't mean tasty' like a prostitute. We're looking for some food. Wanna help?"

"Nah," he sighed disgustedly, turning and beginning to lumber back upstairs. "Bring me back somethin' good."

Rolling her eyes, Kaylee turned to Mal, who still stared in the direction Inara had gone. "What about you, Cap'n?"

"I was gonna leave the menu to you two," he answered, "but I'll come along. It's her birthday, so I guess I should get her a little somethin'. I just don't know what."

"Come on," Kaylee said, linking her arm in his. "I'll help you find somethin' extra special."

"It don't have to be _special_," he hastily backtracked as Book fell into step beside them. "Just, you know, nice."

***

"Come in, Kaylee," Inara called when she heard the knock at her shuttle door. Upon setting down her shawl and turning around, she was shocked to see Mal.

"You . . . knocked." She tried to recover, but there was a knowing twinkle in his eye.

"The look on your face is enough for me," he teased. "Kaylee will want you to come to the galley soon, but I wanted to see you first. I'm sorry about before. I didn't mean to be tetchy. . . . I take that back. You and I like to regularly annoy each other, but I shoulda been nicer on your birthday."

Part of her anger melted away, but she still took the chance to tease him back. "What an unexpected gift: you're actually something of a gentleman."

Mal swallowed patiently as his hackles began to rise. He deserved this. "Well, that's not the gift I came here to give you."

"It's . . . not?"

He took a step closer, pulling something out of his pocket, and handed her a small leather pouch. "I hope it's okay. . . ."

The pouch held a simple but lovely necklace. A smooth black opal hung on a thin silver chain. "Mal, this must have cost a fortune," she gasped, looking up into his eyes. Slowly, she smiled. "You used the money from that theft last week."

He shrugged, his mouth twisting into a small smile. "Guilty. I just wanted something nice."

"It's perfect," she assured him. Without thinking, she hugged him; after a moment, his arms came around her for a brief squeeze.

"Could you help me put it on?" she asked as they started to pull away, surprised to hear her voice sound husky. He blinked but nodded and took the necklace out of her hands. She felt a strange tingling in her stomach at his warm hands on the back of her neck and the closeness of their bodies.

Finally, he stepped back, and she looked down at her necklace. In the light, purple, blue, and green flashed in the black surface. She looked up at Mal and smiled, but his gaze was on the stone. "Like your own piece of the black," he murmured.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He was reluctant to look up; the necklace looked perfect, nestled right between her breasts. . . . He forced himself to lift his head, and he smiled at Inara. "Happy birthday."

They were actually getting along. For once, his visit had been for the right reason.

***

Mal mock-bowed and offered to escort her to the galley; Inara didn't have the heart to refuse. Upon entering, she gasped at the feast Kaylee and Book had prepared. She'd eaten finer food, of course, but the intent was touching. Hugs and good wishes were exchanged; then all sat down to eat. She even received a few gifts.

Compared with her day at the spa, Inara was tempted to say that this was the better half of her birthday celebration.


	18. Change of Heart, May 22, stolen&given

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Author's Note: Another Mal/Inara fic for the LJ ff_friday challenge, and also the sequel to my ficlet _The Thought That Counts_ (I haven't yet finished _Thought_, so it will actually serve as the prequel to this). May 22's subject: something stolen, and something freely given. Length: 988 words.

Change of Heart

By Trisana McGraw

"Hello, Kaylee," Inara greeted her warmly from the doorway of her shuttle. "How have you been?"

"Fine, thanks," Kaylee answered and stepped inside, taking in the silk draperies, the soft pillows arranged over the furniture, and the sweet incense wafting through the air. On every visit to Inara's shuttle she found a new, fascinating aspect of the Companion's life.

Turning back to Inara, who sat on one of the cushions, Kaylee continued, "I've been giving _Serenity_ a bit of a checkup, and everything is running smoothly, like always." Her smile was proud. "I did find a glitch in one of the stabilizers, but I was able to reroute it to life support and actually strengthen a few other systems."

Inara nodded politely and motioned for Kaylee to sit while she prepared some jasmine tea. She found Kaylee's unwavering love of mechanics sweet, and even though she knew very little of what Kaylee chattered nonstop about, she enjoyed listening.

Kaylee paused to take a sip of the tea and sighed appreciatively. Leaning back against the cushions, she cradled the cup in her palms and asked, "So, did you have a good time yesterday? I'll bet you had fun at the spa, getting pampered all day. `Course, you're probably used to stuff like that, with your clients probably bringing you to tons of spas."

"Some of them have," Inara agreed. She fell silent as she recalled that the best part of her birthday had been completely unexpected.

Kaylee watched her thoughtfully. When her eyes fell on the opal necklace hanging around Inara's neck, she smiled knowingly. "Cap'n made a good choice, I think."

Inara's hand flew to the necklace, and Kaylee could've sworn she blushed just the slightest bit as she unconsciously fingered the stone. "Yes, it's very beautiful."

Kaylee's smile widened. "He'd hate me telling you, but he looked around all day for it. Even once he'd bought it he was worried it might not be fit for you.'" She rolled her eyes. "You know how he is. I think it was cute."

Inara shifted slightly so that she sat up straighter. True, she knew how Mal acted most of the time, but there were sides of him, like the anxious man Kaylee had described, that she hadn't seen at all. It was her desire to become familiar with every aspect of him, but that seemed impossible.

During the months they had been friends, Kaylee had learned how to figure out what was going through Inara's mind, though there were still some Companion methods for masking emotions that she hadn't been able to get past. "Is something wrong, `Nara?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

Inara shrugged, but the mechanic knew she was lying when she didn't meet Kaylee's eyes.

"Come on, you can tell me," Kaylee wheedled, setting down her cup and leaning forward. "You listen to all my chatter about mechanics, so I'm prepared to do the same favor."

Inara laughed quietly but continued to stare at her tea for several moments as she pondered what exactly to say. "I'm reconsidering my status as a Companion," she finally said. "A . . . complication has arisen, and I'm not sure if it's more important than my work."

Kaylee didn't need to be a reader like River to know exactly who that "complication" was. "Can I give you some advice? Now, I know you probably have more experience with this than I do, but you might need another opinion." When Inara nodded, she said, "You should go for it if you really want it." It was clear that now, in addition to Mal, Kaylee was also talking about another man on _Serenity_.

Inara looked up at her, her eyebrows raised in an expression of mild surprise. "I told you, Kaylee, the Guild has a strict policy on . . . pursuing other interests."

"I don't mean it as something you do in addition to your work," Kaylee replied. "I think you should choose one over the other. You could probably retire by now, right? I mean, you weren't planning to be a Companion your whole life, were you?"

Inara sighed wearily; these questions were exactly what she had been going over in her mind endlessly. "It's not that easy, Kaylee. It would be the same as you never coming on this ship, or any other, because you had decided to stay home. This is what I've grown up with."

"But if what you want is that special, then it's worth the big price. You gotta make your own decisions, you know, take the initiative.' That's how I got here." Kaylee leaned back again, beaming proudly.

Inara's smile faded as she remembered the story she had heard about Kaylee's arrival on _Serenity_. She doubted it would work similarly for her; she'd been having sex with strange men for the whole year she'd been here, and she'd failed to attract Mal's attention in the way she wanted. "I understand your point. . . ."

Kaylee shrugged. "The way I see it, you should just think about it for a little." She sighed. "I gotta be getting back to the engine. Cap'n gets a bit ornery if I'm not minding _Serenity_."

Inara nodded, standing with her. "Thank you for coming, Kaylee. I enjoyed talking with you." They exchanged hugs; then Kaylee turned to leave.

"Bye, `Nara," she called as she left, lightly trailing her fingers over one of the embroidered drapes. "Who would've thought," she murmured; "the captain and the Companion."

Catching Kaylee's words, Inara smiled to herself as she gathered up the teacups. Just as her life wasn't completely defined by her Companion status (though many would believe that), Mal wasn't just a captain; he was a fighter, a commander, and a deep thinker, not to mention a criminal and petty thief when the situation called for it.

__

A very good thief, she reflected. _He's stolen my heart._


	19. LoveHate, May 29, love

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Author's Note: Mal/Inara ficlet for the LJ ff_friday challenge. May 29's subject: love. Length: 622 words.

Love/Hate

By Trisana McGraw

She should hate him; he gives her enough reason to. He insults her way of life, he takes every chance to get under her skin, and there are times when she's sure that she never wants to see his face again.

Yet, at other times she is reminded of how much she has grown to care for him, and occasionally she is simply a foolish girl with a crush. His quirky smile makes her stomach do flip-flops, and she is almost ashamed to admit that she yearns for the feel of his hand on her arm.

Before she arrived on _Serenity_, she never let anyone change her views about her work; even on her first meeting with Mal, she remained unfazed when he called her a whore. But as time went by and her feelings for him developed past a business relationship, his unceasingly crude comments began to sting. He was the first to make her feel ashamed of being a Companion, but she never let show how much he made her doubt it. She began to see his face in that of every client she took, and no matter how hard she tried to repress the feeling, he wouldn't stay out of her mind or her heart. She lies awake at night thinking about him and cursing herself for doing so.

She rarely ever agrees with his views, especially his stubborn refusal to accept things the way they are. But she respects the basic values he displays, like loyalty, dedication, and doing what is morally right, and she loves him for being this way.

On good days they're friends, getting to know one another. Yet they both sabotage any chance of developing a relationship because of their tempers and their unwillingness to let bygones be bygones. They take two steps forward but always one step back.

Her Companion status prohibits her from loving anyone, least of all him, but she can't hate him either. So, she finds a way to do both.

***

It has to be her Companion training that makes him feel this way for her; sometimes he wants to just strangle her with one of her expensive silk scarves, but somehow her feminine wiles take down his defenses in one swift movement.

He hates it when she takes clients to her shuttle. He's not too happy with himself when he imagines that _he's_ one in her bed. He hates that she demeans herself by servicing others when she is a beautiful, intelligent woman who could do so much more. He hates that she acts as if it's such an honor to be what she is.

Yet he still has such an interest in her that he tries to look past all that; so far he hasn't done a very good job, but he still makes the effort. Like the time he defended her honor against Atherton Wing. He saw that she appreciated it, and he thought that maybe it couldn't hurt to be more "honorable" if he could get that reaction more often.

He looks forward to their encounters on the catwalk at night, when they seem to be the only two on _Serenity_. They laugh and joke and sometimes even have touching moments of honesty. Always on those nights, his sleep is peaceful and undisturbed.

They both work to reach an equal level, even if neither will admit it. But as her clothing and talk become more casual and he tries to understand or at least tolerate the upper class, they find ways to keep a separation. Sometimes, more often it seems these days, he thinks that they will never let themselves see eye to eye.

He hates that he loves her, but that's life.


	20. Unknown Until It's Too Late,May 29,love

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Author's Note: Post-"Out of Gas" ficlet written for the LJ ff_friday challenge. There was never any explanation on how everyone felt after the events of that episode, so I decided to write something. May 29's subject: love. The title's kind of weird; I got it after changing around the words in "Big Yellow Taxi" ("don't know what you got till it's gone"). Length: exactly 998 words. I really need to try writing shorter pieces. :)

Unknown Until It's Too Late

By Trisana McGraw

The normal hubbub of noise during dinner, the warm blend of laughter and gentle voices, had been scared away from the table by the eerily silent threat of cold, helpless death in space, so far and so near beyond the ship's walls. Now the only sounds were the monotonous clattering of plates and utensils and the mechanical chewing and swallowing of food. Only River could hear the clamor of eight different minds, but she didn't share her knowledge.

"Please pass the bread, Zoe?" Book murmured. She did, with an expression of trying to say something but unable to.

Looking at the somber faces all around, Wash lost his patience. "What's wrong with everybody?" he demanded in a loud voice, startling the others into looking at him. "You're acting like somebody died."

The only sound was Mal's exasperated sigh; Kaylee said in a small voice, "We all almost did."

"The operative word being 'almost,'" Wash persisted. "We all survived to have this uncomfortable conversation." He tried a smile, but no one mirrored it, much less looked him in the eye.

Kaylee shook her head violently, her eyes squeezed shut. She didn't want to relive the hellish memory of feeling each precious breath slip away, unable to do anything but watch. Noticing her distress, Mal growled, "Really not helping matters, Wash."

"Look, I'm the one who nearly lost my wife." At Zoe's warning look, Wash rephrased his statement. "That unpleasant experience left as much of a lasting impression on me as it did all of you, but I'm trying to look optimistically ahead. Kaylee, you understand; you're always so bright and happy."

When she opened her mouth only a sob emerged. Embarrassed, Kaylee wiped her eyes with one grimy hand and swallowed thickly. "I try to," she finally said huskily, "but I just _can't_. I keep tellin' myself that we survived, but all I can think about is when we were stuck alone in space and losin' air. . . ." Another, louder sob swallowed the rest of her words. Her shoulders began to shake, and she leaned forward, covering her face with her hands.

Tears blurred her vision, but she heard the scrape of a chair against the floor, and then Inara's arms were around her. The Companion murmured in her ear, "It's okay, honey. It's all right. Shh, Kaylee, it was frightening, but everything is all right now."

"I was so scared," she babbled into Inara's shawl. "I tried to be brave like everybody, but I couldn't. I'm so sorry."

Sitting beside Kaylee, Simon felt useless. Inara glared over Kaylee's head at Mal; a moment later, the captain sighed and stood up from his chair. "Excuse me, Doctor," he said, and Simon had no choice but to give Mal his seat. Mal hesitantly placed his arms around Kaylee's shoulders and tried giving her the same reassurance. Pushed back two chairs, Simon reached out a hand, rather lamely, and awkwardly patted Kaylee's arm.

Eventually she stilled and grew quiet. Mal and Inara both let go of her, exchanging glances before returning to their seats. Simon withdrew his hand, regretting that all the time he had said nothing.

"Are you all right, Kaylee?" Book asked, watching her with furrowed brows.

  
She nodded, still trying to compose herself. "I'm sorry," she said again; "I didn't mean to lose it like that."

"It's all right," Mal told her, still concerned. "Nobody's askin' you to keep it all inside. It was a horrible thing, but Wash is right: we're all together, safe and sound. That's what we should focus on."

Kaylee managed a wobbling smile as she wiped away the last of her tears. Each person here made her feel safe and happy in some way; each had a place in her heart, as special as a family member. She'd just never realized it until they'd been stranded in space with the clock ticking away their last precious moments of life.

Everyone turned back to their food, and the uncomfortable silence descended upon them once again. After collecting her thoughts, Kaylee stood, and all eyes turned to her.

"You all mean a lot to me," she started, "but I never really understood that till we were about to die. Since we survived and are s'posed to be lookin' forward, I just wanna say this in case someday I don't get the chance." She took a deep breath. "I love you guys, each and every one of you. You're like parents, siblings, and friends." Her eyes traveled over each crewmember, excluding no one. "Even though we're all floatin' out here, never settlin', you make me feel at home."

Kaylee glanced down at the napkin she was twisting in her hands before she lifted her head again. "I just wanted to say so," she murmured shyly before dropping back into her seat.

The table went silent again, but this time it seemed to pulse with new life, not hover like a cold fog. After a few moments, Mal cleared his throat, and everyone looked at him.

"You know we love you too, Kaylee," he said. He was silent a little longer as his eyes passed over the other members of his crew. "You know, we got a pretty good crew here. We all get along — mostly." Someone laughed, and the fog cleared. Smiling, Mal returned to his food.

The feeling was infectious. A steady murmur started, and soon everyone was talking. Kaylee had broken the spell that had kept them all dwelling on their terrible shared experience.

Later, Wash grabbed Kaylee's arm as they were taking away the dishes; she gave him a questioning look. "Look," he said while dragging one hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable, "I didn't mean to make you feel badly before, at dinner."

Her face broke into that glowing smile everyone on the ship knew and cherished. "It's okay," she answered, giving him a brief hug. "I understand that you gotta make life funny; that's what I love about you."


	21. Rude Awakening, June 5, trust

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Author's Note: Ficlet for the LJ ff_friday challenge. June 5's challenge: trust. Length: 746 words. It took me a while to write this, and even now I'm not so sure about how good it is. SPOILERS FOR "HEART OF GOLD"!

__

dai ruo mu ji = dumb as a wooden chicken and _baichi_ = idiot, all thanks to skripka's site

Rude Awakening

By Trisana McGraw

It completely came out of nowhere, or so she thought. Looking back, Inara wasn't sure if her reason for not noticing Mal and Nandi's interest in one another had simply been that she hadn't wanted to. She still tried to convince herself that there had been so much other activity at the Heart of Gold that the two of them talking alone hadn't been out of the ordinary. They were both the leaders of their respective groups, so it was logical for them to discuss battle plans for when they would have to face Rance Burgess.

She'd just never considered that they would spend time together because they took a liking to one another — enough of a liking to have sex, at least. The pretense of planning had been ripped away when she'd found Mal sneaking out of Nandi's room that morning. He'd made a lousy excuse, but it had been apparent what had gone on in there.

Of course she couldn't let him know how much he had hurt her, so she'd slipped the mask over her face; it had become as easy as breathing. She'd surprised him by dismissing the whole thing. Maybe for a moment she had enjoyed the knowledge that she had flustered _him_, not the other way around as so often happened.

But the moment she was out of his sight, her resolve broke, and she hurried away to a side room to do something she hadn't done in years: cry over a man.

What kind of man was Malcolm Reynolds, that he could make her feel this way? He'd been the first to actually make her the slightest bit ashamed of her work, and now she was jealous that he had bedded someone else.

Inara pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, but the tears kept seeping past. Allowing herself to keep crying, she nonetheless bit her lip to keep any sound from escaping her mouth; she didn't want to wake Petaline, who lay in bed at the other end of the room.

Inara's hands curled into fists, and it took all of her control not to smash the small wooden table next to her. She couldn't believe that that _baichi_ had betrayed her like this! They both knew there was an attraction between them, even if neither could resolve it. Then suddenly he'd decided to sleep with the next beautiful Companion he saw! She'd trusted him not to be with another woman.

For the first time, some logic found its way into her muddled emotions. She was a Companion; Mal had to endure that she had regular sex with strange men and women. She couldn't put the blame on him.

__

But he could have at least been faithful.

Faithful to what? she asked herself._ I never told him I cared for him. I should have._ The thought made her tears come again, and she didn't try to stop herself from sobbing.

A sound made lift her head; across the room, Petaline had begun to stir, woken up by contractions. Inara hurriedly wiped her cheeks and rushed to the young woman's bedside while calling for Simon. She shoved her worries to the back of her mind as the day of action began.

She almost forgot everything else when the activity intensified tenfold, when careful planning gave way to confused laserfire and death, including the loss of Nandi. For a short while, Inara let her anxieties go out to the whores who were in worse trouble than she, but after Nandi was in the earth and _Serenity_ was in the air, the problem between her and Mal reared its head again.

He saw through her act and offered her a chance to be completely honest with one another. It was what she had wanted, and all she had to do was take the plunge.

Her heart was cheering her on, but, being a Companion, she ignored it. Instead of going along with the fairy-tale idea, her reply to his brutal honesty was "I'm leaving." Her training was so good that she was able to hold his stare for several moments before turning away. A voice inside her chanted, _Idiot, coward, dai ruo mu ji_, and she couldn't tell if it were her heart or mind, or maybe both. As she left Mal standing there, the tears started to well up in her eyes again. It hit her then: the person who couldn't be trusted in this relationship was she.


	22. Taken Seriously, June 5, trust

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Author's Note: Ficlet for the LJ ff_friday challenge. Length: 502 words (wow, a short fic for a change). June 5's subject: trust. SPOILERS FOR "HEART OF GOLD"! Before reading this, people should check out Ana's fic Sturdy (it helped to inspire this) at the Firefly Glow, also with spoilers for "HofG."

Taken Seriously

By Trisana McGraw

Helen was used to doing `most anything customers wanted her to. Indulge in a little fantasy, get something to eat before or after the sex, talk (which she really liked doing, `cause she was interested in learning about life beyond her planet).

This was the first time she'd had to supply a customer with ammo as he shot at people from the second-story window, though.

At first glance, Jayne was just like other men she had bedded. He wasted no time with preliminaries and let her know exactly what he wanted, and she gave it to him. But during the time in-between sex, when everyone was preparing for Burgess' attack, he included her in the plans. He told her that he'd be taking out men from the upstairs room, and that she would be up there with him. He explained that she would be the only other person in the room, and it would be her job to hand him ammunition as fast as he could use it. He showed her each type of bullet, instructing her to give him the biggest first, until it was all gone. Fascinated, Helen memorized every detail for fear of forgetting something important.

Days of readying the bordello and romping between the sheets passed by quickly, until Helen found herself crouching behind Jayne's huge form as he pointed one of his deadly guns out the window at Burgess' men below. She could hear gunfire and explosions from outside as well as vague shouts, but mostly her ears were filled with the steady _bang_ from Jayne's gun. He dropped the empty, smoking shells, and she handed him the new bullets. She didn't hesitate once, though her hands were shaking a bit.

They continued in this pattern: the bullets exchanged hands, _snapclick_, _bang_, bullets dropped, start over. Everything went by so quickly that Helen barely had time to form a real train of thought; that was actually a relief, because she was so nervous. To remain calm, she forced herself to focus on the pattern and nothing else, but at times her thoughts wandered a bit.

If she made him lose precious moments waiting, Jayne could easily get taken down. For days she'd thought over the important duty that he had given her in this fight, but up until now she'd never realized the basics of it: He was trusting her with his life.

It was a hell of a lot more credit than most people gave her. The shaking in her hands stilled somewhat, and she grabbed the next bullet, noting that it was decidedly smaller than the ones they'd started out with. Jayne had gone through a lot of ammo, and from what she could hear outside, it didn't seem to be letting up. She pressed herself more tightly against the wall, making sure her head wasn't near the window, and cradled another bullet between her fingers. If Jayne had such faith in her, then she'd give him the same trust with her own well being.


	23. Place to Place, June 12, minor char POV

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Author's Note: Ficlet for the LJ ff_friday challenge. June 12's subject: POV of a minor/recurring character. Now that I think about it, it's a really weird idea, but it was all I could manage for this difficult challenge. This is set between "Shindig" and "Safe." Length: 991 words; I really need to cut down on these.

Place to Place

By Trisana McGraw

What's happening? Hooves clattering on metal, walls blocking the sky. Where am I?

I start mooing, even as I'm forced to keep moving lest I be trampled, into the large, strange creature's cold belly. There's too much activity to stop and figure out what's going on.

Finally, those in front of me stop, and the rest of us do the same. I turn around, trying to find out where I am. Two-leggers stand above and around us, but they're not the ones who raised me. My eyes dart around, and I see a huge flap covering the belly. It clangs as it hits this beast's skin, and we're locked inside with the foreign two-leggers.

Suddenly, the floor slides out from beneath us, and I nearly hit my herd-mate beside me. We regain our balance but are left with hearts racing in fear formed from the unknown. Looking around again, I recognize more cows from my herd, until I realize that we've _all_ been taken away.

The two-leggers approach; we all shy away. One of the two-leggers comes closest, reaching out one hand. It's wearing the same skin that is on my back; I don't know if that's good or bad. We stay still, and it makes an amused sound and pats some cows on the head. It seems friendly, but I've been kidnapped, and I'm not ready to trust someone who masquerades as one of us.

Another two-legger with longer hair growing out of its head and smelling like machines clambers over and immediately starts touching us. I can tell that its hands have cared for our kind before, and I relax. Metalsmell turns to Skincoat and speaks in their language. Turning back to us, Metalsmell starts pointing out cows and saying words like "Bessie" and "Bonnie." I think it's naming us.

A loud voice makes us jump in fright; I'm ready to hide somewhere that's not so out in the open. Another two-legger – how many are there? – appears, shouting indecipherable words. Skincoat and Metalsmell yell at the third, making my ears ache. The third lumbers down stairs, making more noise. Standing in front of us, it's bigger than Skincoat. Skincoat says more words, and eventually the giant leaves. I take a few cautious steps forward and nudge Skincoat's back. Startled, it looks at me and makes that amused sound again. It can't be that bad.

Eventually the other two leave, and we're alone. We find family and friends and discuss what's happening. Some younger calves say that we're being taken to the building of knives, where the two-leggers chop us up for food. My legs shake with fear at the thought.

An older, wiser cow says that perhaps we're just being moved. Most of us have grown up at home and don't understand, but she explains that two-leggers do this all the time; they pack us up and take us somewhere new, where we continue living.

We're alone as the windows darken; soon we arrange ourselves in the way we did at home, mothers with calves. I'm beginning to doze off when I hear the sound of two-legger shoe on metal.

I look up, and there's Skincoat and another, longer-haired person. They're talking softly, looking at each other and us. The other person carries a soft, calming scent. They murmur quietly for a little longer. I want to know if they're talking about what will happen with us, so I moo. Awakened by my noise, others also begin mooing, and both two-leggers make laughing sounds.

I soon lose track of our time spent inside this metal creature. Each day is the same. We stand on the flat floor, unable to roam. Three times before night, three two-leggers give us hay and milk. Metalsmell and Sweetsmell are there, but so is another person. Its skin and hair is browner than cow's hide, so I call it Darknight.

In daytime the two-leggers visit us frequently, but at night we're alone. Occasionally, Skincoat and Sweetsmell sit together above us. Their voices have a gentle, soothing quality that I like to listen to at night when I wonder about my fate at the end of this journey.

One night, their quiet voices start rising, until they echo throughout the belly and wake everyone. We start mooing in distress, but they don't even notice; they keep hurling their loud voices at one another until Sweetsmell stomps off. I call out to Skincoat, but he yells his loudest yet, and we all fall silent at the same time, suddenly afraid of this normally gentle two-legger. Skincoat's voice softens, then, but we're still wary. Sighing, it too leaves.

They don't talk the next night, or the next. The third night, I'm almost asleep when I hear Skincoat tiptoeing on the walkway. He stops outside the door to Sweetsmell's room, and for several moments just stands there. Then, sighing again, he turns and leaves.

Days of talking with other cows about all the same things and being fed by Metalsmell, Sweetsmell, and Darknight pass, unchanging. Then, one ordinary day, a jolt nearly knocks us off our feet as the creature lands on real ground. We start pushing against one another, excited at this new, mysterious prospect. What's happening?

The flap behind us opens, admitting bright light we haven't seen for days upon days. Suddenly Giant is there, bellowing at us and slapping cows to make them run toward the opening. I hurry out, but not before leaving Giant a special present.

I inhale the fresh air gratefully. My legs are unused to walking, but soon I'm lumbering over the dirt, raising dust. Giant's there again, forcing us into a corral like the one at home. Skincoat's there too, with two other people I didn't notice before.

The sun is bright and hot on our backs; I can taste adventure on the air. The wise cow was right: we're in a new place, but life goes on the same.


	24. Unconditional, June 19, change

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Author's Note: Kaylee ficlet for the LJ ff_friday challenge. June 19's subject: change. Length: a shortie (finally) at 339 words.

Unconditional

By Trisana McGraw

When she signed on as crew, at least a year ago, the Captain warned her that this would take her far away from home so she wouldn't see her family often, but she'd been willing to give that up to explore the universe. He'd also made sure that both she and her family knew that the jobs that _Serenity_ took were sometimes very unsafe, but she'd loved the ship so much that even the threat of danger didn't faze her.

That love had blinded her, but the bullet in her gut tore the veil away. As she lay on the ground, gasping and bleeding and crying, her fevered brain wondered why she hadn't just stayed back on the farm and helped her pa with his few jobs, using her skills to barely scrape by.

A few days later, she was good as new and back at work in the engine, feeling it thrum with life around her, and her love for the ship was as strong as ever.

Then _Serenity_ turned against them, even if she hadn't meant to, and stranded them in space, with cold death lurking beyond walls Kaylee used to think were impenetrable. She remembered thinking for the second time that she was gonna die, wishing she had her mama and papa and all her brothers and sisters close; instead she had Inara and the Captain and all the other crewmembers. Mal had told her not so long ago that out here there was danger, but he'd never expounded on the idea, never said that she'd surely be facing death too early in her young life. Maybe he hadn't known himself.

They survived that ordeal too, but both she and the ship bore scars that couldn't be easily erased. Yet even that couldn't tear her away from what she loved. She didn't run back home where there was nothing for her; instead she faced the danger, wondering when strike three was gonna be, and knowing that it still wouldn't change her mind about staying on _Serenity_.


	25. Take Two, June 19, change

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Author's Note: Here's another meta-humor fic, written for the LJ ff_friday challenge. Partly inspired by puffgirl_two's fic The Meeting. In case anyone can't figure it out (I don't really watch these shows I'm parodying), the shows are _Fastlane_, _Joe Millionaire/For Love or Money_, and _Paradise Hotel_. June 19's subject: change. Length: 766 words.

Take Two

By Trisana McGraw

FOX executive #1: All right, Mr. Whedon, we'll give your show one more chance, but there are some changes that just _have_ to be made.

Joss [wary]: You already made me completely rework the pilot. What more do you want?

FOX executive #2 [hands Joss stack of paper]: You see, we want _Firefly_ to fit in with our other shows. If you follow our plans, _Firefly_ can be more like the FOX programs that actually stayed on the air.

Joss [reading papers]: You've got to be kidding me!

FOX executive #1: Don't worry, that's only the first plan. We have many more here; at least one should be workable.

***

[Mal, wearing tight leather pants and nothing else, struts on-screen and perches on the side of a car, his arms crossed over his chest and a moody expression on his face, his eyes hidden by dark sunglasses.]

[His buddy, Jayne, also wearing sunglasses, rides in on his motorbike.]

Jayne: What's up, Mal?

Mal: Boss wants us to infiltrate a high-powered crime ring, steal some valuable goods, and have an adrenaline-pumped car chase full of explosions on the way back to headquarters. The usual.

Jayne: Heh. What's she gonna do while we're out riskin' our necks?

Inara [appears, wearing a one-piece leather bodysuit]: I'll be interrogating the cat burglar that's been fooling the police for the last couple of weeks. Maybe she'd join our side.

Mal: How do you plan to do that?

Inara: Getting in's the easy part, but I have a feeling that to gain her trust I'll have to make out with her in a hot tub. She's a lesbian, by the way.

[Mal and Jayne's mouths are hanging open.]

Mal [regaining his composure]: Well, Jayne, let's go and further this weak plot. We're takin' my car.

[Inara watches as they hop into Mal's car – which has _Serenity_ emblazoned in silver letters on the side – and speed off while "hip" music plays.]

***

[Badger, as the Butler, stands in front of the camera, wearing his bowler hat and holding his hands behind his back.]

Badger: Just a few weeks ago twenty lovely ladies arrived at the Tam residence on Osiris to win the affections of Simon "I'm not good at talking to girls" Tam. What this wealthy young doctor doesn't know is that the woman he chooses to marry gets a million credits. In the first half of the two-hour finale, there are just three women left to fight for Simon's heart. Will he choose country mechanic Kaylee Frye, rich Banning Miller from Persephone, or Osiris' own pretty but not-quite-there River (who is actually his sister, though he doesn't know it)?

***

Announcer: We have quite a diverse bunch of passengers on this ship. Their homes vary across the universe, but they have come here for one reason: to hook up, or get kicked into space.

First we have Malcolm Reynolds, Mal for short, a strong, silent type who hasn't "been" with a woman for awhile. He does, however, seem to have already developed an interest in the prostitute – er, Companion, Inara Serra. Since the first episode, they've been trading snippy remarks, which the viewers are taking for a bunch of UST. According to the rules, when someone is kicked off, another person comes on the ship, and Inara's been "getting to know" with any and all of the new male members. When River Tam was kicked off a few weeks ago, a mysterious woman going by the name of "Saffron" joined the crew, and already viewers can sense heat between her and Mal.

Then there's Mal's polar opposite, Jayne Cobb, a man whose motto is "whenever, wherever, whoever." The ideal matchup for Jayne would be the very "experienced" Kaywinnit Lee Frye, but Kaylee, as she likes to be called, seems to have her eyes on the prim and proper Doctor Simon Tam from Osiris. Simon seems to return Kaylee's interest, but in the early part of the show most of his attention was taken up by caring for his little sister River. Now that she's off the show, prepare for Simon/Kaylee sparks to fly!

Zoë and Wash are happily married and have no idea why they got on this ship, as they're already bound to one another. However, they have more sex than the rest of the passengers combined, so they may outlast everyone.

There was a preacher – or maybe he wasn't – Anyway, "Shepherd" Book got kicked off in the first show, because, after a long and rather repetitive questioning from Jayne, he claimed that he was celibate.

***

FOX executive #2 [smiling complacently]: Now that's entertainment.


	26. MO, Interrupted, June 19, change

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Author's Note: Futurefic (though it's set not that far from the present time on the show) written for the LJ ff_friday challenge. June 19's subject: change. Length: 972 words. Btw, _pigu_ = ass, and Bisa is an African name that means "greatly loved." With _Serenity_'s crew, I couldn't think of a better meaning for the baby's name.

Modus Operandi, Interrupted

By Trisana McGraw

For once, Kaylee wasn't full of good-morning chatter as she entered the galley; instead, she slumped into her chair and dropped her head onto the table. Inara gave her a sympathetic look while trying unsuccessfully to cover a yawn. Jayne smirked at the two women, and then went back to shuffling a deck of cards while whistling tunelessly.

Irritated by the constant flap of cards, Kaylee lifted her head to glare at the mercenary. "Jayne, could you please keep it down?" she muttered, placing her fingers at her temples. "I'm really not in the mood for any more noise." Inara patted her arm.

Jayne shrugged but put aside the cards. "What's got little Kaylee so grumpy?"

Kaylee sent him a second glare more vicious than the last and considered hitting him for his teasing, but at that moment Mal walked in, looking as worn out as the women.

"I love my goddaughter more than is right for any person to love another being, but she's so gorram _loud_," he groaned, starting to make some coffee.

"May I have a cup, Mal?" Inara asked; he nodded and pulled two mugs out of the cupboard.

"Me too," Kaylee added. "Who woulda thought such a small thing would have such huge lungs?"

"I don't get it, Kaylee," Jayne said. "You sleep right next to the engine."

"Yeah, but an engine's rumbling is constant, somethin' you eventually get used to. It ain't like a baby, where it screams, then it's quiet, and just when you think it's over, all the noise starts up again."

"Huh. Well, I just slept through it."

"Don't make me hurt you," Kaylee groaned, closing her eyes. "Are you tellin' me that you're not the least bit bothered by the baby?"

Jayne sighed. "I got my problems with her, darlin' little thing she may be. If not bein' able to put my guns on the table anymore weren't one thing. . . . Well, you remember that hooker I brought back to the ship last night?"

Inara rolled her eyes disgustedly, while Mal interjected, "Yes, and explain why you had to bring her back _here_?"

"I told ya, I got her off the street. She didn't exactly have a nice place to take me to, so I thought it'd be polite to take her home with me." He received another eye-roll from the Companion. "Anyway, we was gropin' outside my bunk, ya know, kinda gettin into the mood, and Bisa just crawls right past us, stops, and starts starin'."

Mal brought over the three cups of coffee and took a seat next to Inara. "Then what? You better not have continued what you were doin' before she came by."

"Well, no." Jayne looked affronted. "We was about to go into my bunk, but she kept _starin'_ at me like I was doin' somethin' wrong." The other three quickly took sips of coffee to hide their smiles.

"It's not funny!" Jayne protested. "Girl nearly made me lose my interest in the hooker, and that wouldn't've been good for anybody. A man can't function like that, not if he's gonna be faced with those innocent, accusin' eyes every day. I mean, they're just so freakishly –"

"What, Jayne?" Zoë asked calmly as she entered the galley, carrying Bisa. "What about my daughter's eyes?"

Every moment he took to rephrase made greater the risk of getting his _pigu_ kicked by Zoë, so Jayne quickly replied, "They're freakishly beautiful." He shook his head. "Just so gorram – oh, sorry, forgot – beautiful."

"You better believe it," Wash said, entering a moment later and taking a seat next to his wife, giving both her and his daughter a peck on the cheek. "How did the conversation shift to my daughter's baby browns, anyway?" he asked.

All eyes, including the "baby browns," looked to Jayne. He blinked several times, clearly uncomfortable, before responding. "I just felt kinda guilty `cause last night she was starin' at me before I was about to hook up with that . . . you know." His forehead creased. "The whor – I mean, the prost – the lady from the street." His eyes kept darting to the oblivious Bisa, who had lost interest and was now playing with Zoë's hair. "Things are diff'rent now that she's around; I feel like I gotta censor myself."

"Not to mention that she's loud," Mal added. "My heart still swells with overwhelming love for her," he hastily added as Zoë gazed at him. 

Slowly, she smiled, showing that she wasn't offended. "We know; imagine what it's like to be right next to this set of lungs all night. Wash and I knew going into this that a baby would call for a lot of unpleasant work and some change, not just for the two of us."

"Yep," Jayne added under his breath.

"But we love her," Zoë finished, giving Bisa a kiss, which made the baby giggle.

"You're right," Mal commented. "Whatever you do affects the whole crew; and we all love this little thing more than `most anythin'. I'm just tryin' to think if she's the most troublesome of all the passengers on my ship."

"I dunno," Jayne replied, picking up his cards again. "My vote's still for the goody-two-shoes doc and his wacko sister."

Bisa gurgled something incomprehensible and tried to climb out of Zoë's lap. Zoë gently placed her on the table, and Bisa crawled over to Jayne, who had begun shuffling his cards again. Grinning toothlessly, she clapped, then reached out one tiny hand for the cards.

He shook his head, wearing a bemused smile. "Too pretty for your own good," he told Bisa, tapping her on her button nose with one finger. Kaylee and Inara shared grins, both knowing that having a baby on board was worth the lost hours of sleep and changes of lifestyle.


	27. Differential Treatment, June 26, money

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Author's Note: Ficlet for the LJ ff_friday challenge. June 26's subject: money. Length: 293 words. SPOILERS FOR "HEART OF GOLD." The viewpoints are kind of shifting in this, so I hope it's not too confusing. Now that I think about it, it doesn't entirely address the challenge theme except in the beginning. Ah, well.

Differential Treatment

By Trisana McGraw

For the first time in a long while, it hadn't been about money. It hadn't even been a trade the way Jayne saw it – "I protect you, you give me sex" – Mal had respected Nandi too much to do that. He learned about her as a person, not just a body. He'd needed her that night, and she'd probably needed him in some way too. In that back room, the two leaders had been able to let out their anxieties and burdens without worrying about consequences.

***

Maybe that was what had bothered Inara so much; not just that the woman Mal had bedded hadn't been her. There'd been more fire and life in Mal and Nandi's one night than in the entire year Inara had spent on _Serenity_. She'd planned from the beginning that the way she would act toward the captain would always be of detached politeness, never allowing matters to become personal. She'd been too foolish to realize that what he'd needed was a friend; if she'd taken that role she might have been the one soothing him before the morning's fight.

***

The only downside of going beyond a simple transaction was the complications it brought about later. Nandi's death was like a punch in the gut. Mal couldn't rest until he'd avenged her, and even after she was buried he felt a restless need to do her justice.

Their brief relationship had been powered by frantic need, not conducted in a calm, businesslike manner. With Nandi the emotions came spilling out unheeded; she didn't force him to hold his feelings in. Inara saw that in an instant – gorram Companion face-reading or whatever it was – and that was what ended whatever feelings had finally begun to flourish between them.


	28. The Value of One, June 26, money

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Author's Note: Vaguely Simon/Kaylee ficlet for the LJ ff_friday challenge. June 26's subject: money. Set after "Objects in Space" but with no spoilers for the unaired episodes. Length: 938 words; I try, but I always end up within 100 words of the maximum.

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shuài = handsome/snazzy 

__

shénme? = what?

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bì zuî = [you] idiot!

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xièxie nî = thank you (all thanks to TaraLJC's Mandarin primer)

The Value of One

By Trisana McGraw

Simon could hear the captain's steady footfalls coming nearer; then they halted, and he knew without looking that Mal was standing at the door to the infirmary. He didn't look up from his work -- he had grown used to being watched -- until he heard a new noise: the jangling of many pieces of metal.

He lifted his head, and Mal took that as a silent invitation to enter. Simon's eyebrows lifted steadily higher as Mal dangled a leather bag from one hand before dropping it onto the table where some metal instruments lay.

In response to Simon's silent question, Mal said, "Your share from the other day's job. Gotta say you surprised me, Doc, thinkin' up a scheme like that. You keep contributin', you could be seein' this" -- he shrugged at the bag -- "as often as the rest of us do."

"I -- ah, thank you, Captain," Simon stammered, hefting the bag in his hand. His work forgotten, he turned it over in his fingers before opening it and extracting a silver coin. He studied it in silence for several long moments.

"You all right?" Mal asked with a look of mild amusement.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I'm fine," Simon answered, looking back at him. "It's just . . . a strange feeling, being paid for . . . well, crime."

"Who says you didn't do the same back on Osiris?"

Simon frowned, but Mal continued, "Come on, the rich are always the ones who want more than they got. Don't tell me you didn't once in a while load on extra payment for some helpless elderly patient, or somethin'?"

The jab seemed unfair, but Mal got his answer when Simon didn't say anything. He tipped an invisible hat to Simon and left.

Simon set the bag back on the table and returned to his work, but he kept glancing back at it until, with a sigh, he set aside his tools and picked it up again.

***

"Kaylee?"

"Hmm?" the mechanic asked, twisting around in her hammock. It wasn't everyday Simon was calling for her, so she climbed out and met him in the hallway leading to her room. "What is it?" she asked, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her jumpsuit.

Wearing a small smile, Simon held up a leather bag. "I got paid today."

". . . That's nice," she replied politely, not understanding his point.

Simon seemed to have a point, so she let him keep speaking. Looking back at Kaylee, he said, "It's funny. When I was on Osiris" -- _Oh great, another story about his rich home_, she thought, fighting the urge to roll her eyes -- "I never really thought about the money I had. I told you that I made an outrageous amount as head surgeon, and it never crossed my mind how wealthy I was."

"And why are you tellin' me all this?" she asked, her impatience clear in her voice.

"Let me finish," he urged. Only because she thought he was _shuài_ did she allow him one more chance. Crossing her arms over her chest, she gave him a "This better be good" look.

"I never realized the worth of money until I gave it all up and fled with River," Simon went on. "And I mean _all_ of it -- I lost my job at the hospital, and my father made sure that all of my personal accounts were wiped off the face of the planet. Sure, I brought some money with me, but I've been steadily running out, what with buying new clothes and supplies. . . . Just today I got paid. I know that it's hard to find work out here and that I'm least likely to get a regular salary, so what I'm trying to say is that I've learned to not take for granted each piece of money I'm lucky enough to receive." He paused for a breath. "All that said, I'd like to take you out to dinner tonight."

__

"Shénme?" Kaylee asked, the breath knocked out of her at his words, making her unsure if she could believe it.

Starting to get a little nervous, Simon repeated, "Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?" 

Her eyebrows were furrowed together in slight confusion. "But you just said . . . that you would use the money for somethin' really meaningful --" The meaning hit her, and her eyes widened, while her mouth opened in an "o" of surprise. Slowly, a grin spread over her face, but she was too stunned to say anything more.

Simon smiled shyly, making her heart flip over. "So what do you say?"

"_Bì zuî_!" she answered, but it was in a teasing manner. "Of course I'd love to have dinner with you!" Her expression clouded again, and Simon fervently wondered what he'd done wrong now. "You don't feel sorry for me, do you?" Kaylee demanded. "`Cause I'd hate you thinkin' you were doin' me a favor or somethin'."

"No, not at all," he protested. "I told you; this is something important."

She smiled again, and he felt proud that he had managed not to muck things up. "_Xièxie nî_, Simon! I -- I've gotta go tell Inara; she'll help me find somethin' to wear." She hugged him around the neck before practically skipping off to the Companion's shuttle.

Still smiling, Simon stared at the bag, remembering the old saying "Money can't buy happiness." He'd understood that after realizing what a lie his life on Osiris had been, but it helped that he had some extra change, especially if it allowed him to do something that would bring such a radiant smile to Kaylee's face.


	29. Till Someone Loses, July 3, games

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Author's Note: Consider this a futurefic (as usual, written for the LJ ff_friday challenge), and a bit of a dark one at that. July 3's subject: games. Length: 845 words. The title comes from the phrase "all fun and games till someone loses an eye."

Till Someone Loses

By Trisana McGraw

Simon raced into the room, his boots clattering on the metal floor, as loud as an army. His breath chafed his lungs and throat, and his eyes burned from the smoke billowing around him. He could hear another faint explosion from the room next door, and he calculated that he had only a short time before the entire place went up in flames. Apparently someone had come to the Alliance facility before _Serenity_ had and had generously sabotaged most of the rooms, effectively erasing all evidence of whatever had gone on there.

But before the building was destroyed, he had to find her. He'd come too far to lose his sister yet again.

As the smoke began to clear, he saw countless bodies piled on the floor or in chairs. They'd been caught off guard; some were slumped in front of consoles whose lights flashed madly. Simon instinctively covered his mouth with his collar, in case any poisonous gas lingered in the room, but he couldn't rule out the other possibility: someone, or several someones, had murdered these officials where they sat or stood.

At the moment he couldn't have cared what had happened. He knelt by a group of fallen bodies and turned them over, silently praying that he wouldn't see River's blank face. They were all soldiers and commanders, not to mention men; there was no young woman in the group.

Moving to the other corner, Simon found several men in white lab coats sprawled over each other. Their blue gloves were drenched in blood; some of it had splattered on their coats as well.

About to stand up again, Simon paused. His eyes went back to the gloves, and River's singsong filled his head. _"Two by two, hands of blue." _Still panting from running through the building, he stared hard at the dead bodies, trying to make his exhausted brain understand.

"Blue hands can't reach that far." River's voice, no longer a memory but part of reality, came from behind him. Simon whirled around, standing at the same time, his arms outstretched. River stood next to a body, her hands clasped behind her back as she gently swayed from side to side. Bloody handprints stained her cotton skirt, and there was a ghost of a smile on her lips.

"River," he sighed, feeling as if his heart would explode with relief. "Oh, thank God you're all right. What did they do to you? No, don't answer right now; I'll get you back to the ship." He could check her properly in the infirmary. At that thought, he remembered the other patient he had to take care of as well, and his joy at finding his sister diminished somewhat.

He put his arms around her, but River took a step back, still smiling. "Simple Simon, always trying to be the brave hero who rescues the lovely princess from her imprisonment."

"River, this isn't the time for that," he scolded, trying to push her toward the doorway, which was almost invisible through the smoke.

River wouldn't budge. "But the princess is too beautiful. No one can be that pure."

"River, stop talking about all that nonsense," Simon snapped. They were in grave danger, and here she was acting as though they were just playing. Memories came to his mind unbidden: River dancing before they were abducted by hillfolk; River shooting three men as if it were a game she and Kaylee were playing. "We have to leave. Zoë's waiting for us because the Captain's wounded; he's too weak to be in charge. And Shepherd Book is . . . gone. We don't know where he is. So we have to get you out of here. Come on." He started walking toward the exit, expecting her to follow him.

When he heard her voice again it came from the spot where he had left her; she hadn't taken a step. "What about the princess? What if she likes the tower?"

He was fed up with her ignorance. "River, come here right now!" he roared. "I'm tired of you behaving this way! The people who took me here to save you could _die_; people here already have. It isn't a gorram game!"

Something tore into his left leg, making him crumple to the floor. He cried out in agony as hot pain blossomed along his thigh and nearly brought blackness crashing over him. There must have been an automated gun that he had unknowingly activated. But there was only a blank wall, with no room to hide guns, on his left; a machine would have had perfect aim at his right leg. Instead he had been hit in the leg where he'd been injured before. No one but he and River could have known that.

Pushing himself into a crouching position, hissing with pain the entire time, he laboriously turned around to find River in the spot where he'd left her, holding a pistol in both hands. The laughter was gone from her eyes. "It's always been a game," she said softly. "And you've just lost."


	30. Truthsome, July 3, games

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Author's Note: Getting this in on the last day of the challenge: Ficlet for the LJ ff_friday challenge. July 3's subject: games. Length: 768 words. SPOILERS FOR "HEART OF GOLD." I already tried tackling this subject in my other fic _Take Me Somewhere New_, but this is a sequel to that.

__

fèi huà = garbage/nonsense

__

tìan xiâo de = God knows 

__

dong ma? = understand?

__

hâo le ma = that's enough, okay? **(thanks to TaraLJC's Mandarin primer)**

Truthsome

By Trisana McGraw

Mal had had it with that stuck-up, thinks-she-knows-every-gorram-thing-in-the-`verse liar (because "Companion" was just a pretty name to cover up her dirty work). What right did she have to be angry with him when he'd succumbed to temptation? It wasn't as if she invited him into her "sacred space" — which belonged to him, actually — to do anything more than discuss business. 

And now she was leaving, huh? He knew her well enough to know that it was an empty threat; she'd mentioned leaving _Serenity_ more than once, and every time she'd stayed with some half-assed remark about "Oh, the offer wasn't enough to take me away from here."

Kinda like Jayne with the jobs, actually, but Mal refused to follow that parallel anywhere else.

He _thought_ he knew her well enough; then one morning she approached him and asked if he would set a course for Sihnon. His mouth dry, he'd told Wash to do so, which threw the entire ship into uproar. Even as Kaylee pleaded and Simon looked suddenly interested by the prospect of going somewhere rather than _Serenity_, Mal knew what he had to do. What he wanted to do, because, though he'd never admit, he'd hate to lose her beautiful face and sweet voice.

He'd already tried the gentle approach, trying to coax her feelings into revealing themselves. Her response had been like a slap in the face, and her decision to set the course — as if they all bent to her whim, for another thing — made it ache like a live wound. He'd remained patient and had visited her one night, again going for the soulful, "I want you to stay here" approach. He thought he'd made some headway, but over the next few mornings there was no change in course.

Malcolm Reynolds was a man on a mission; she'd had her chance for him to be peaceful. No more Mister Nice Captain. Inara needed convincing, and flowery words weren't gonna cut it. It was time to bring out the big guns.

He stormed into her shuttle and flung open the door, startling her out of pouring some tea. She barely managed to replace the teapot without shattering it while standing up to indignantly demand, "What —"

"No, you're not gonna speak," Mal cut her off, and she just stood there, mouth hanging slightly open before she remembered to close it. "I don't want you giving me any more _fèi huà_ explanations about why you're leavin'.

"You think this is a game, doncha?" he asked, and her eyes darkened. "Stringing me along all this time, bein' friendly one day and switchin' to 'business' the next."

"I never —" she started, but he interrupted her again, not about to back down now.

"Don't think I'm stupid, that I haven't noticed that; I got more brains than you'd like to think. Things were startin' to make sense a few days ago; then you decided you're gonna leave, for no better reason than you got jealous when I bedded someone else. So I tried, Inara, I tried to make you understand. But you keep playin' with me, makin' me think that maybe you'll stay, but you never do. _Tìan xiâo de_ why I've put up with all that. 

"I don't understand you; actually, I don't understand most women, but you're the worst. All the games are gonna end. I want you to stay here, but we're gonna be honest from now on. No more pussy-footin', _dong ma_?"

"_Hâo le ma_?" she said, her voice caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob. She closed the space between them and pressed her lips to his. Mal made a surprised sound but forgot to protest when she deepened the kiss, reaching her arms to wrap around his neck. His arms went around her waist as if they fit there all along. Everything about the kiss was sweet: the soft skin of her back not covered by her outfit; the silky shawl wrapped around him to keep him from escaping; her hair brushing against his cheek; and her smooth lips.

Mal finally gained enough control to pull back an inch. She was panting, her eyes wide, and he figured he looked pretty much the same. "This better not be another one of your games," he gasped, "makin' me think things that aren't true."

"It's not, you idiot," she answered, her eyes overbright. "What you said just now . . . That was all I needed to hear."

"Huh," he replied with a strained laugh, bringing her mouth to his again. For once, he'd won, and victory had never tasted sweeter.


	31. Calm Before the Storm, July 10, words

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Author's Note: Ficlet for the LiveJournal ff_friday challenge. July 10's subject: use these words: "Don't kill anyone." / "You take away all my fun." Since I couldn't think of a fic to build around the words, I decided to insert them into a full-grown idea I'd had before but couldn't put in for the challenge. SPOILERS FOR "HEART OF GOLD." This was inspired by Kaylee's line: "Did the Captain seem a bit funny to you at breakfast?" Length: 907 words.

Calm Before the Storm

By Trisana McGraw

Kaylee gazed up and down the long tables that stood in the middle of the Heart of Gold's dining room, expecting to see Simon's dark head. Her heart gave a small jolt when she thought she spotted him, but it turned out to be one of the boy-whores, and she slumped into her chair feeling decidedly gloomier than when she'd woken up a half-hour ago. Simon was probably tending to Petaline, she thought with a touch of ire. Sure, she felt sorry for the pregnant girl, but did it mean that he had to spend every little minute by her side?

Kaylee sighed and rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes. She was quite a bit nervous for the attack, but she knew that part of it was real jealousy. She'd never been this possessive of a guy that wasn't even hers; there was just something different about Simon Tam.

Before she could think any further on the topic – she wasn't sure she wanted to – Mal entered and started to take a seat on one side of the table before several girls ushered him to the head. He sat, wearing a lopsided grin, and thanked them as they began bringing platters of food – not much better, really, than the protein packs they ate on _Serenity_ – to the table.

"Mornin', Cap'n," she said cheerfully. In the process of heaping some type of porridge on his plate he smiled at her. He was in the best mood she'd seen him in a _long_ time, and Kaylee was glad for whatever was making him act so jovial before the dangerous job they had laid out for them. If anyone deserved to feel a little better about life, it was Mal.

Near the other end of the table, Zoë and Wash were talking about something, their heads bent together; both looked serious, which was normal for Zoë but not for Wash. Shepherd Book was having a conversation with some of the whores. Strangely enough, Inara wasn't at the table.

"Cap'n, d'you know where Inara is?"

Some of the laughter slipped away from Mal's face, and he stared down at his fork as if it were solid gold. Kaylee saw his Adam's apple bob up and down, though he said nothing. Finally he looked at her and answered, "I dunno. Haven't seen her all morning."

Kaylee blinked, a little taken aback by his change in mood, but she soon figured that he and Inara had probably just had one of their weekly falling-outs. To make up for whatever she had unknowingly brought up, she went on, "What about Jayne? I haven't seen him."

"Helen hasn't come by here either," one of the whores piped up.

"Well, then we know where they are," another one said with a smile and a conspiratorial glance towards the stairs. A few people laughed, Kaylee and Mal included, and they returned to their breakfast.

About five minutes later, Nandi entered the room, wearing a dress similar to the one she'd had on the day they arrived at the bordello and a golden-brown shawl. She took a seat next to Mal, and their eyes met for a second before a smile crossed her lips and she turned to get some porridge.

There were no speeches, long or short, about the fight; every person in the bordello knew it was coming and preferred to deal with it in his or her private way. They continued to fill themselves with food so that they would have energy for the long day ahead. At one point Kaylee noticed, out of the corner of her eye, Nandi standing and walking to the sink. Mal rose and followed her; Kaylee heard them talking in low voices. _Probably going over the last things they'll need to instruct everyone in, _she thought, trying to ignore the foreboding that was slowly knotting up her stomach at the thought of the fight. _They're both great leaders – at least the Cap'n is – and everything will work out._ Still, they both seemed to linger for an extra long time at the sink; whatever they were discussing could be said at the table too, right?

People began standing and bringing their plates over to the sink; by then, Mal and Nandi had stopped talking. Kaylee did the same, while that nervous feeling grew stronger, making her feel as if a creature were struggling to claw its way up her throat.

A rough hand slid into hers, and she looked up into Mal's face; he was smiling in that strange way again. "Everything's gonna be fine, _mei-mei_," he said. "You and Wash should get goin' to the ship so you'll be ready."

"All right." She gave him a kiss on the cheek for luck. "Don't kill anyone," she added in a teasing voice. Of course that wasn't true – she wanted him to strike down those who were going after the defenseless Petaline and her poor baby – but it was her place in his life to bring the innocence.

"You take away all my fun," he said in mock hurt, giving her hand a squeeze before letting go and going to talk with Zoë.

Kaylee was glad that he was in a good mood; it was a better way to go into a fight, at least. She just hoped that the outcome of the impending battle wouldn't give him, or anyone else, for that matter, reason to be sad again.


	32. Celebration, August 7, laughter

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Author's Note: I used to say that Mal/Inara was my OTP, but after writing this I am loving Simon/Kaylee. Anyway, you know the drill: Ficlet for the LiveJournal ff_friday challenge. August 7's subject: laughter. Set during "Jaynestown." Length: 983 words. It's nearly over the limit, but this is my first time in a little while doing a drabble, and the more Simon/Kaylee, the better.

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cào = (verb) to screw something

Celebration

By Trisana McGraw

While everyone around them sang the chorus of Jayne's song boisterously, with the occasional whoop, Kaylee and Simon clanked tankards together. It took them several tries, as one kept missing the other's each time, but finally, with a clattering of metal, they completed their toast and leaned back on the couch, smiling dazedly at one another.

"_I'd_ like a theme song," Simon muttered, sounding wounded as he leaned his head back to look at the crowd of Mudders obscuring Jayne from view.

"I'll give you one," Kaylee promised. "Um . . . _He may be lost in space, but he's still got lots of grace. He saved a girl and got a hamster_ -- What rhymes with 'hamster'?"

"Hell if I know." Simon shrugged. "But that was really sweet." Suddenly Kaylee was as shy as if she'd been thrust onto a stage, with spotlights glaring down on her. He saved her from further embarrassment by adding, "I say we propose another toast."

"To what?" she asked with a giggle. "I think we've toasted everything in the room."

His eyebrows drew together in concentration. "Yeah, we have, but not 'everything' as a whole. You know?" Kaylee didn't quite follow, but it was an excuse to drink, so she nodded enthusiastically and raised her mug with him. "A toast to everything!" Simon called out and lifted the tankard to his lips, but he missed his target, and Mudder's milk splashed down his front.

Kaylee nearly spit out her drink as Simon lifted the hem of his white shirt and stared, perplexed, at the yellow stain. "Aww, you ruined your pretty shirt," she said, her voice a little slurred.

He stared at the shirt for a few more moments before dropping it. "C_ào_ it," he muttered, waving a hand wildly, which made Kaylee shriek with laughter. Though he looked confused at first, he soon joined in, and the two of them were soon howling, oblivious to the crowd that had begun to chant Jayne's name in earnest.

Gasping for breath, Kaylee said, "You know, you should laugh more often."

"Yeah?" Simon said, not so much as an argument but out of surprise.

"Yeah," she affirmed, sitting back against the couch and resting her head on her arm. "It makes you look happier."

Simon smiled; then he suddenly let out a loud belch. His face flushing, he clapped his hands over his mouth. Two men nearby laughed and offered congratulations; Kaylee looked about to burst again.

"You might wanna find a better way to loosen up," she said, her shoulders shaking.

He stared thoughtfully at her round, bright face -- even cleaner-looking around all these people buried beneath dirt -- and her shiny hair and her adorable jumpsuit and felt a calm settle over his body. "I can think of another way."

"What's that?"

"Come closer and I'll tell you." She complied, so that her face was mere inches from his. Simon paused for dramatic effect, then uttered, "You."

"Me?" she asked incredulously, with another breakout of giggles.

"Yeah, you," he echoed, looking into her green eyes and considering that he'd rather drown in them than a tankard of drink. Her lips were slightly parted, and he thought he was about to kiss her; he leaned in closer, but the standstill moment was destroyed by Jayne's yelling. Both pulled back to see the mercenary stumbling past them, his arm around a woman while he waved his tankard in the air and shouted back at his adoring fans.

Kaylee's eyes dropped to the seat cushion, and Simon saw her cheeks grow rosier. He swallowed several times, his hands nervously going to his shirt collar. "Is it hot in here, or is it just me?" he asked, unbuttoning the first button. 

Despite her confusion at what had just almost happened, Kaylee was not going to miss Simon slightly shirtless. From the little skin that was exposed, the doctor would look _good_ shirtless. Part of her wanted to help pull off some more of those buttons, but neither of them were drunk enough for that; and she realized that she didn't want them to be, if that time came. She settled for flashing him a flirty smile and saying, "You're the hot one." She wasn't sure if he'd caught the meaning, but he smiled again, that adorable one where he caught his tongue between his teeth.

"You know, Kaylee, you . . ." he started, but before he could either put a giddy grin on her face or make her slump back in her seat disappointedly, his head dropped back onto the cushion. Out like a light, just like that.

To make sure, Kaylee crawled over and craned her neck to see his face. Yep, he was snoring like a baby. She sighed; so much for anything else exciting happening tonight.

"He _really_ needs to find a better way to make him happy," she muttered. Then she remembered that he'd said that _she_ did that, and her heart fluttered madly. She looked down at his smooth, peaceful face again and gave another sigh, this one of contentment. She was about to scoot back to her original spot when she thought, _If I'm already right next to him and he hasn't objected_ -- She put it out of her mind that he was asleep and adorably helpless -- _he wouldn't mind if I stayed._ Moving carefully so as not to wake him, she curled up next to him on the couch, laying her head on his chest. His skin felt warm through the shirt, and his heartbeat was steady.

She slowly shut her eyes, her lips curving upward in a smile as the singing around her seemed to grow fainter. "_Our love for him now ain't hard to explain_ . . ." she murmured, but Jayne was the furthest thought from her mind. She felt something brush against her back; when she cracked open one eye to check, Simon's hand was resting on her shirt. Kaylee closed her eyes again.


	33. Lucky Ones, August 2, faith

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Author's Note: _Firefly_ drabble for the LiveJournal multifandom1000 challenge. August 2's subject: faith. Set after the events of "Objects in Space," but not as an actual coda for that episode. Length: 555 words.

Lucky Ones

By Trisana McGraw

"Well hello there," Mal murmured as River skipped into the galley. His tone was friendly, but he kept one eye on her as she moved around, her head tilted ever-so-slightly so that a chunk of her long, dark hair fell into her face. She wasn't reaching for any of the knives -- though they'd been locked into a drawer, he wouldn't put it past her to find them -- or mutilating the food packets; in fact, she'd be acting almost normal if she weren't swaying with each step.

She seated herself on the table and fixed him with saucer-wide eyes. Mal met her gaze calmly; she wasn't intimidated, however, and continued staring at him unblinkingly. Finally he surrendered it to her and flicked his gaze away, on the verge of laughing at the fact that he'd had a staring contest with a seventeen-year-old.

When he looked back, there was a ghost of a smile on her pale lips. "Book says that you don't fix faith, it fixes you."

"Does he?" Mal responded coolly, no longer quite as amused at the turn this conversation was taking.

"But yours didn't fix you; it left you broken."

He wasn't sure if she were asking him or telling him. Chances were, with those psychic powers they'd suddenly discovered she had, she was taking a stroll through his mind. And he didn't like it one bit. He'd placed his hands on the table; now he saw that they were clenched so hard that the veins stood out. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Book was wrong, then," came her singsong voice, sounding more worried than the all-knowing tone she'd had a moment ago. Mal opened his eyes and looked up at her. Her forehead was creased, and her mouth had turned down in a slight frown, making her look even more like a confused child.

So the genius didn't know everything after all. Mal's lips twisted into a smile, albeit a bitter one. "Everyone makes mistakes."

"I'm already broken," River whispered, and in her eyes Mal saw a little girl -- How old had Simon said she was when she went to the Academy? Fourteen? -- huddled and alone, vulnerable. "I trust Simon more than anything. I love him. He's supposed to fix me, make me like I was."

She didn't want her faith to bring her crashing down. Mal knew that realistically she could end up with the same fate as him, or worse; as least he had Zoë and _Serenity_. But he forgot that under all those scars she was just a little kid who still believed in childish ideals. He didn't want to be the cruel one to take those away. "You've got nothing to worry about, kiddo," he said, patting her leg. "You're one of the lucky ones; you've got a smart brother who'll take care of you. Just see what he did with the bounty hunter." A smile brightened her face, and he couldn't help but mirror it. "You can rely on him."

The smile faded all too quickly, to be replaced by sadness darkening her eyes. She'd seen through his act; of course, it was that damn mind-reading. She hopped off the table and stood watching him a few moments longer, with something that looked uncomfortably like pity. "Everyone makes mistakes."


	34. Fun and Games, August 28, anything

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Author's Note: Ficlet for the LiveJournal ff_friday challenge. August 28's subject: anything. I chose the thirteenth challenge, "games." Sorry for the crappy title, but I just couldn't come up with anything better. Length: 329 words.

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gôu pì = bullshit

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wô hâo = I'm fine

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qingwa cào de liúmáng = frog-humping sumbitch (thanks to TaraLJC's Mandarin glossary)

Fun and Games

By Trisana McGraw

Mal entered the galley to find Jayne, Kaylee, and Shepherd Book sitting at the table, each holding several cards. He gave them an uninterested glance -- it was usual to see crew members play when there was no work to be done -- before going to fix himself a snack. After he had found nothing satisfactory, he turned around and watched the game.

Kaylee gave each of the men a guileless smile and produced two cards, which she set facedown on top of a pile between them. "Two threes, gentlemen."

"_Gôu pì_!" Jayne shouted, slamming his hands on the table so hard that the cups of tea rattled. Mal's head whipped around at the noise. "And so early on in the game. I shoulda known," Jayne went on. He stabbed an accusing finger at Kaylee.

"Calm down, Jayne," Mal admonished as he came to sit beside them. "It's just a few threes; I think you want the higher cards."

"_Wô hâo,_ Cap'n. It's part of the game." Kaylee spoke up, with a small laugh when she said his name. "We're playin' '_gôu pì_' . . . you know, 'bullshit.' We try an' fool each other."

"Oh," Mal said, a little taken aback and annoyed that Jayne was now smirking at him. "Well, just don't get out of hand."

He leaned back in his chair and watched as Shepherd Book, then Jayne, then Kaylee again laid down cards. They played in silence for about a minute, until Jayne announced, "Three jacks."

"_Gôu pì, _you_ qingwa cào de liúmáng_!" Kaylee shouted, throwing her cards down and leaning over the table so her face was an inch from Jayne's. Book showed a ghost of a smile. The mercenary laughed and showed that he had indeed been lying. Kaylee laughed and triumphantly sat back down, picking up her cards again. When she noticed Mal staring aghast at her, she gave him one of those brilliant, innocent smiles. "Survival of the fittest, Cap'n."


	35. Seeds of Discord, August 31, green apple...

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Author's Note: Ficlet for the LiveJournal ff_chronicles challenge. August 31's challenge: green apples. Set in the beginning of "War Stories." Length: 297 words.

Seeds of Discord

By Trisana McGraw

Mal's glad that he shoved some sense into Jayne's head, even if the only result was a childish gesture. Apples aren't going to make things better, but it's a nice start. _Stone by stone, they built a road to Go_ -- It's a nice start. (Where did that come from?)

Yet he can't help but remember that day in the trenches, when the Alliance sent them booby-trapped apples. He doesn't have to see Zoe to know that she's thinking of the same thing. It's not as strange now as it used to be; the war became a part of their being, something they carry around like their coats, but under the skin. Little things bring back memories; most of them keep him up at night or take him away from whatever everyday job he's doing.

Kaylee and River run by, fighting over one of the many crisp, sweet apples. He remembers Private Lyons' face as he dove for their first food in days and took a bite big enough to choke him. At least he was happy when he died.

Each apple carried a tiny grenade with enough power to reduce a man to dust. Mal watches his crew toss the fruit back and forth, sees the flash of color and the blur of motion. Any minute now, one of those apples is going to go off, blast a hole through his girl's skin, and suck her innards, all nine humans, into space's cold hands.

Jayne brought this danger onboard. Mal wonders if he made the right decision to let Jayne live. He might be scared now, but there will be a time, Mal knows it, when Jayne will get another chance from the enemy, and Mal will have helped him along.

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Pop. Pop.

Any minute now.


End file.
